The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book II
by Spidersting
Summary: Book II picks up where Book I left off. Pocahontas and John Rolfe have made it home to Virginia but new trouble is brewing between the settlers and Powhatans. Will our young couple be able to restore peace and prosperity? Home is anything but boring with new adventures, meetings, partings, comings, goings, threats, dangers, and discoveries on the horizon. Characters and universe ow
1. A Sad State of Affairs

**The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book II**

Chapter 1: A Sad State of Affairs

"YOU!" Chief Powhatan roared, releasing his breathless daughter. He pointed squarely at John Rolfe. "What took you so long to bring her back here?!" he demanded.

Rolfe yelped and shrunk behind Uttamatomakkin. "Well I-I…"

"Father!" Pocahontas chided. "It's not his fault!"

"What happened to your hair, Pocahontas?" Mattachanna blurted, running her finger through her younger sister's short locks. "Your long, beautiful hair. It's all gone."

Pocahontas smiled nervously. "That's a long story. Where is Nakoma? I want to see her."

"You'll have to wait until the storm lets up, Daughter. Nakoma and her husband are in their own wigwam," Chief Powhatan replied, turning Pocahontas back to him. He gripped her shoulders and shook her gently. "Where were you? What happened to you? When your ship was a week late, the settlers ensured me everything was probably fine. But then John Smith came and…"

Pocahontas gasped. "John Smith came?!"

"Yes!" Powhatan confirmed. "His own ship left London a week after yours and he was stunned that you weren't here. Uttamatomakkin was with him. I nearly collapsed in grief, knowing something ghastly must have happened to you! What happened?! You must tell me!"

Pocahontas raised a brow. "What on earth was he doing here? What did he want? I thought he was planning to go on a new voyage to some far-off place that he hadn't seen before."

Mattachanna frowned. "He never did get to tell us why he came originally because we were all so distracted by the realization of your disappearance, Pocahontas. After he came to see Father and found you were missing, he swore to us that he would search for you to the ends of the earth. We haven't seen him since. He's off gallivanting around the world somewhere looking for you!"

Pocahontas gasped in worry. There had to be some way to inform Smith that she was alright. She glanced over her shoulder to John Rolfe. "Not to worry, Pocahontas," Rolfe chimed, noticing her troubled look. "I'll send Smith a letter forthwith. He's bound to stop by London some time for supplies and when he does he'll find my letter waiting for him. Besides I've got to write to the king and queen to let them know what happened. And my parents too. If they ever find out our ship was lost at sea, I'm sure they'll both have a heart attack," he said with a worried chuckle.

Pocahontas looked relieved. "Thank you, John! Please, do that right away."

"I'll leave for Jamestown as soon as the storm lets up," Rolfe dutifully replied.

Pocahontas's eyes widened. "John, no! You should stay until morning. You must be as exhausted as I am from traveling all day," she expressed worriedly.

"I doubt the storm will let up before morning arrives anyway," Powhatan added. "Come back to my quarters with me, all of you. I want to hear every detail of what happened." He turned and began back in the direction of his personal dwelling, ushering Pocahontas to come with him.

The younger Powhatan princess walked alongside her father and the others followed. They were greeted in each room by Pocahontas's brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and in-laws. All were overjoyed to discover she was alright. The crowd followed them to the chief's chamber which served as a communal meeting place for members of the immediate family. Once they arrived in Powhatan's neck of the longhouse, Pocahontas ran into the arms of her other maternal aunt and stepmother Sooleawa. The woman dropped the basket she was holding to embrace Pocahontas. "Aunt, I've missed you so much!" Pocahontas cried, squeezing the elder woman tightly.

"Pocahontas, my dear child!" Sooleawa proclaimed in Powhatan. "You're alive! I knew in my heart you were alive. Your father had his doubts but I knew. Oh, I knew!"

All of Powhatan and Sooleawa's young children were gathered around the central hearth. They jumped to their feet and rushed in to embrace their elder half-sister as well—with the exception of Chepi who was only a year old. She crawled over, babbling to herself.

John Rolfe was taken aback at just how large Pocahontas's family really was. The Powhatan princess had told him about the size of it but the true magnitude never hit home until he was able to witness it for himself firsthand. He waded through the crowd to a corner of the room so he would be out of the way as Pocahontas enjoyed her reunion with all her closest family members. Chief Powhatan walked up to his throne and cleared his throat to get everyone's attention after a few minutes. The crowd quieted down instantly, deeply respectful of their patriarch. "Everyone, please be seated. Adults on the benches, children on the floor. Pocahontas, my dear, please come forward," he announced in Powhatan, holding out a hand to her. She approached him.

Pocahontas knew it would be wise to get the unpleasant business out of the way first. Her eyes perused the crowd. The only fair face present, John Rolfe was easy to spot. She pointed to him and used a finger to beckon him forward. Naturally every eye turned on him, making him blush. He walked up to Pocahontas, keeping some distance between them. "Father, cheskchamay," Pocahontas began in Powhatan, "I know you all wish to hear about what happened to me during my time in London and afterwards but I think it is slightly more urgent that John and I find out what happened with the settlers earlier. We've been worried, hearing about the rising conflict when we were in Mattica." She then repeated herself in English for Rolfe's sake.

Chief Powhatan looked slightly surprised but he nodded, conceding to the request. John Rolfe leaned forward. "Most importantly of all, sir, was anyone hurt?" he inquired.

"Yes, was anyone hurt?" Pocahontas asked in agreement. In response to the question, Powhatan's face turned sorrowful and Pocahontas gulped. "People were hurt. Who, Father?"

"Your brother, Keme," Sooleawa replied, stepping forward to place a hand on the somber chief's arm. "He is not dead but badly injured. When the white men came, he tried to stand up to them and drive them out. They made an example of him by shooting him in the leg. That's when the women handed over fifty bushels of corn. They did not want to see anyone else hurt."

Pocahontas could not believe her ears. Keme was her dearest brother. Close to her in age, they had grown up playing together. As her older brother, he was almost like her guiding spirit before she had met Meeko and Flit. "Where is he? I must go see him!"

Chief Powhatan ran a hand over his head, deeply stressed. "He's in the medicine hut," he informed her. "You cannot go to him now. Wait until after the storm. Kekata fears that his fate will be the same as Namontack's. We don't know what to do for him and he is in terrible pain."

John Rolfe raised a brow, perturbed. "Chief Powhatan, I hope you don't mind me asking. Who is Namontack and what happened to him?" he inquired. "If Pocahontas's brother was only shot in the leg, his condition should be treatable. Unless it shattered the bone, now that's a much more complicated injury. You've gotten the bullet out at least, haven't you?"

"Bullet?" Powhatan repeated, not recognizing the term. "What is that?"

Surprised by his ignorance, John Rolfe laughed nervously at having to explain what a bullet was. "You know, it's the musket ball. The thing that comes out of the gun when it's fired that causes the injury. It looks like a small metal ball, made out of lead. Haven't the settlers shown you?"

Chief Powhatan shook his head. "The settlers scammed us for corn once last winter soon after Pocahontas left for England. Because they refused to plant, as usual, they sought to trade with us for food. Well we had a big harvest that year so we agreed. They nearly ran out of trade items so they traded us some of their fire sticks instead. After taking the corn in exchange, they refused to show us how to operate the fire sticks and said that that was not part of the deal."

John Rolfe drew his brows together. "That was quite a crooked thing for them to do. I apologize on their behalf. Do you still possess these guns that you traded for?"

Powhatan nodded. "They are buried in the back of one of our storehouses somewhere."

"Well in light of the attack, I think it would be wise for me to show you how to use them as soon as possible so you at least have a means of defending yourselves. That's only assuming, on some off-chance, that the settlers attack again before I've had the chance to tame them. On that note, sir, we do have good news from London. Pocahontas's meeting with King James was a great success," John Rolfe explained, digging into his snow pants. He fished out the king's order and held it up for everyone to see. "The laws laid out in this document should prevent anything like the earlier attack from ever happening again. Pocahontas was very persistent in protecting the interests of the Powhatan Nation when the document was being negotiated."

Chief Powhatan took hold of the tube and looked at it, his expression lightening. Then he looked to his daughter with a wide smile. "Your mother would be proud, Pocahontas," he remarked.

Pocahontas flushed slightly. "I did my best."

John Rolfe held out his hand for the king's order. "I'll need that to present to the settlers, sir. If you want to know the details of what it contains, it would be best to ask Pocahontas about it."

Powhatan returned the document to Rolfe but he gave the Englishman a serious look. "You said that you would show us how to use the fire sticks. I'm afraid you and I will not cohabit this land peacefully if you do not keep your promise this time. Many of the palefaces in Jamestown have lied to us and broken promises despite how much we have helped them over the years."

John Rolfe's eyes widened. "Sir, I give you my word as a gentleman. Gather the guns when the storm lets up and I'll show you how to load and fire them at first light."

"John showed me how to do it," Pocahontas added, giving her father a smile of confidence.

Powhatan shot Pocahontas a look of surprise. John Rolfe looked delighted. "See? Even if I break my promise, Pocahontas could show your warriors how to do it." He cleared his throat. "Now, if we could backtrack a moment, I'd like to know who Namontack is and what became of him. As it relates to the welfare of Pocahontas's brother, it seems a rather urgent topic to me."

"Namontack is… was a warrior in our tribe," Chief Powhatan explained woefully. "When the palefaces first came to this land, I sent a few warriors to observe them and discover if they might pose a threat to our people. Namontack was unfortunately spotted by the governor Ratcliffe and a skirmish ensued during which Namontack was shot in the leg with a fire stick. Our medicine man was at a loss for how to treat such a strange injury. After Pocahontas stopped the war and we signed the first peace treaty with the settlers, the medicine man and other elders approached them and inquired about the right treatment for such a wound. The settlers claimed there was nothing that could be done, that Namontack's fate was in 'God's' hands," he said bitterly.

John Rolfe raised a brow. "Um, okay. Either that was plain ignorance or a baldfaced lie. I can't imagine the first settlers to come were particularly well-educated folk so I'm going to guess it was the former. Please, go on. What happened to Namontack after that? Did he die?"

Powhatan shook his head. "He lives but I fear he is not long for this earth, suffering a pitiful state of health. Even after the flesh wound healed over, he was not himself. He gradually became sicker and sicker. The best medicine men in the Powhatan Nation tried many cures, none had any lasting effect. These days he is emaciated and suffering from horrible stomach pains. His muscles and joints ache, he can't eat normally, he can't even think normally. He gets headaches, can't remember things. And more recently he has even started having these dreadful attacks during which his whole body trembles terribly and he foams at the mouth as if possessed by a demon."

John Rolfe, rather than being taken aback, had a thoughtful look on his face as he scratched his chin. "Well, sir, I'm no doctor. But from what I've read and learned, that all sounds like a bad case of longterm plumbism to me. The lead bullet in his leg must be poisoning his blood from the inside. Now whether he is too far gone at this point remains to be seen. I'm sure, after the musket ball is removed, that he should certainly improve at least a little. Purifying treatments should benefit him greatly. But you've got to get that bullet out first."

Gasps and whispers were heard around the room as those who knew English translated his words for those who did not. Chief Powhatan was stunned. "And what of Pocahontas's brother? If this 'bullet' is removed, he will be alright?" he urgently inquired.

"Well, yes. Plumbism from lead bullets happens more on a chronic basis. He would need long exposure to begin to feel any symptoms," John Rolfe returned. "But did the gunshot injure any of the bones in the man's leg? If so, he might not be so able-bodied after his recovery."

"I don't think so," Powhatan replied. "Kekata seemed to think it was only the flesh and muscle. But how do we get the bullet out? Kekata didn't even realize there was something there."

John Rolfe ran a hand through his hair. "Well you'll need a scalpel, a pair of pincers, some alcohol to cleanse the wound, and needle and thread to sew it up afterwards."

"What is scalpel and pincers? We have no firewater either," Powhatan returned.

"A scalpel is a very, very, very, very sharp steel knife, pincers are what you use to pluck the bullet out of the wound, and 'firewater'—if that's what you like to call it—is quite plentiful in Jamestown. Unfortunately we've got quite a lot of drunks in England and here by extension. The scalpel and pincers, on the other hand, I'll have to ask the Jamestown doctor about," Rolfe said.

Pocahontas frowned. "John, I have met the doctor in Jamestown. He does not like our people. I doubt he would be willing to help by lending us his equipment," she replied worriedly.

"Well then I'll trick him into lending the items to me. Or, if I must, I'll just steal them and return them later," John Rolfe explained. "Thereafter I can order such items directly from London if your medicine man wishes to add them to his arsenal in the event of future injuries."

"You would do that?" Powhatan inquired, skeptical.

John Rolfe shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

The chief slowly nodded. "Then I expect you to keep your promise in that regard as well," he ordained. Rolfe bobbed his head in agreement. "Now about the corn that was taken today. We need at least a third of it back to make it through the winter. As you've been informed, the harvest was bad this year. This is why we always plant a large amount of corn, in the event of famine. If it were not for the settlers, there would not have been an issue in spite of the drought. I tried to advise them to plant in the spring. I offered to help them, offered them corn seeds to plant. They refused me at every turn and planted cash crops instead. Everything I predicted has come true yet I don't know what else I could have possibly done."

"Nothing, sir," John Rolfe replied. "It shouldn't even have been your responsibility to do anything at all. Do you have the name of the irresponsible governor who caused all this?"

"Thomas West," Pocahontas offered. "He has been much less pleasant to our people than past governors. Not quite as bad as Ratcliffe though. He came to Jamestown a year before you showed up, John. Relations between my people and Jamestown have been going downhill ever since he took charge. Whatever wrongdoing he is responsible for is done undercover. He is good at hiding his tracks. At least, that is what I believe based on what I've seen."

John Rolfe gave a nod. "Right. I will have to check him out immediately then." Rolfe counted off on his fingers as he went over his to-do list in his head. "Is that all the unpleasant business or is there anything else we need to discuss?" he inquired.

Chief Powhatan scratched his chin. "I can think of nothing more, except I would like to hear about where Pocahontas has been all this time and why her ship never came to port."

Pocahontas yawned. "That's a long story, Father. I'm very tired and I'm sure John Rolfe is too. Can we not wait until tomorrow so I can recount the story to the entire village?"

The chief placed his hands on his hips. "At least give us a summary. I'm sure we're all dying to know in here," he remarked, gesturing to the entire room full of nodding relatives.

Pocahontas and John Rolfe exchanged glances. As Meeko climbed up into Pocahontas's arms and cooed, she sighed. "Very well," she conceded, speaking in Powhatan so that everyone would understand. John Rolfe, having seen everything firsthand, required no explanation. "In short, what happened is this. Our ship was attacked by a band of bad men on the saltwater. John and I were the only two survivors. They murdered everyone else on the ship. We were unable to escape their clutches until we reached a very strange land to the far south of here called 'Florida.' That is where we jumped overboard and swam to land. Getting back to Tsenacomoco was not easy. We traveled hundreds of treacherous miles on foot. That is why it took us so long."

A wave of whispers and gasps erupted and Chief Powhatan, equally shocked himself, had to gesture with a hand to calm everyone down. "That is most startling, Pocahontas," he said in Powhatan. "I think everyone and I can agree to thank the spirits for your safe return."

"Yes, Father," Pocahontas replied. "Without Mother's guiding spirit, we never would have made it back. She was with me from the beginning. I sensed her in the wind much during the journey."

Powhatan flashed Pocahontas a prideful grin. "Naturally we are all dying to know more." He turned to address the room. "I will call a village meeting tomorrow evening if weather permits. I think now would be a good time to bring this meeting to a close. Everyone is tired and in need of rest. Eluwilussit, my son, where are you?" he announced. The aforementioned warrior raised his hand and Powhatan pointed to him. "If I'm not mistaken, you and your wife have an unoccupied bed in your chamber." He gestured to John Rolfe. "If you could accommodate this white man for the night, I would greatly appreciate it." When Eluwilussit nodded, Powhatan turned his attention to Rolfe and switched back to English. "My son will show you a place to rest for the night. Do not leave in the morning before I have spoken with you. I will have the muskets ready at dawn."

"Yes, sir," John Rolfe replied. He turned and followed Eluwilussit from the room as the crowd dispersed. Everyone ate a dinner of fish and succotash stew and then bedded down for the night.

…

Pocahontas and John Rolfe were awoken at the crack of dawn. The snow had stopped and the warriors had risen early to shovel the village. By the time Pocahontas and Rolfe had eaten and been shown to the warrior training grounds, every brave in the village was lined up to learn how to operate the firearms. The muskets, match-lock of course, were all laid out on a mat over the snow. Rolfe yawned and rubbed his sleep-flushed face, walking up to examine them.

He knelt down and picked one up as Pocahontas and Chief Powhatan stood by and observed. The guns were all in good condition. He used his free hand to peruse the firearm paraphernalia, finding both matchcord and gunpowder cartridges. The only things missing were the musket balls. He glanced up at the chief. "Sir, is this all that they traded you?" he inquired.

Powhatan raised a brow. "Yes, of course. This is all they gave us."

John Rolfe put the gun down and stood up, sighing. "We've got a problem. I'm afraid the scam extended further than simply withholding the knowledge of proper gun operation. A crucial ingredient was also excluded, the musket balls. But worry not. As far as I'm concerned, the musket balls are a part of the deal that went unpaid. I will obtain them for you. But that means I can't teach your men to shoot right now. Well I can walk them through the loading procedure but if they fire the guns, they won't be able to aim at anything like a target. They'll need musket balls for proper practice. And they certainly won't be able to defend the village if the guns aren't properly loaded," Rolfe explained, looking rather downbeat. Everything he had discovered since he arrived in Pocahontas's homeland only made him more and more ashamed of his own countrymen and their inexcusable behavior toward the natives.

A look of grave disappointment fell over Chief Powhatan's face. He turned to Pocahontas. "Daughter, you said that you learned to fire one of these muskets. Is what he says true? Does one truly need a musket ball to operate these things?" he inquired for confirmation.

Pocahontas nodded. "Are you sure there aren't any there, John?" she asked, walking up beside him. She knelt down and perused all the little pouches and whatnot.

"Not that I've found," Rolfe returned.

Pocahontas pursed her lips. "Yes, I don't see any either. And I know what they look like, Father."

"Before I set off to Jamestown to do all the things I promised to do, I'd like to have a look at your son—the one you said was injured by gunshot—if I may," John Rolfe requested.

"Keme?" Powhatan returned. John Rolfe nodded. The chief dismissed his warriors and beckoned Pocahontas and Rolfe to follow him. "This way. He is in the house of Kekata, our medicine man." Powhatan lead them through the village until they came upon a solitary wigwam. "Kekata! I have visitors for Keme," he announced. "Please open up."

A withered old man with long locks of gray hair rolled up the bear skin door and beckoned them inside, stopping when he spotted the chief's daughter. "Pocahontas!" he cried, having to do a double-take. It was like he was staring into the eyes of a ghost. "Are you really here?"

"She returned to us last night, Kekata," Chief Powhatan explained. "Pocahontas will tell the story at the next village meeting. But she wants to see her brother first. This white man also believes he might be able to help with the injury," he said as they all stepped inside the hut.

The robust young warrior was laid out on the bed of furs, groaning. The tension in his face alone was testament to how much pain he was in. "Keme!" Pocahontas cried, running to him. She took one of his hands in hers as his eyelids popped open, staring up at her in wide-eyed shock.

 _"Pocahontas?"_ Keme rasped, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Powhatan walked up beside Pocahontas. "Keme, my son. I have brought someone who believes he might be able to help you. Do not be alarmed but he is white," he spoke.

Keme looked hesitant but he was in no position to resist. Powhatan ushered John Rolfe over to the bedside where he found the man's wounded leg wrapped up in a doeskin bandage. Rolfe turned to Kekata and cleared his throat. "Sir, might I ask you to remove the bandage temporarily so I can get a look at the wound?" he politely inquired, stepping aside.

Kekata bobbed his head once in agreement and approached the bedside, taking Rolfe's place. He carefully unwrapped the doeskin, revealing dry bloody grasses. "I need to change this anyway," the medicine man noted, taking hold of the ends of the grasses. He gently pulled them away, making Keme almost cry out in pain. The young warrior gritted his teeth to remain quiet, trying to conceal his agony as much as possible in front of the others.

John Rolfe's mouth hung open and Pocahontas placed a hand over her heart, tearing up at the sight. "Eugh, that looks awful," Rolfe muttered to himself, tempted to shield his eyes. The wound was staggering, a great gaping bloody hole in the side of Keme's right thigh deep enough to reveal the muscle underneath. Rolfe was forced to swallow some bile. It was revolting but he had to get a good look. "Can someone open the door? I need some sunlight to properly examine it," he requested. Kekata rolled up the door and fastened it in place, allowing both sunlight and cold to flood into the room. Keme squeezed his eyes shut at the light but the cold felt nice on his swollen legion. Rolfe knelt down, squinting his eyes at the injury. Then he stood up. "There has to be a musket ball in there if it didn't come out the other side. I will need to obtain the proper tools first for us to pluck it out. You may re-bandage him now."

"So you're sure this can be fixed?" Powhatan inquired, looking for reassurance.

John Rolfe nodded. "Certainly. I mean, he'll always have a terrible scar but he should survive and recover his health in time," he replied. "Now what of Namontack? Where is he?"

 _"Namontack?"_ Keme muttered in confusion as Kekata began to bandage him up with fresh grass. Again, he resisted the urge to hiss in pain from the contact.

Pocahontas shushed her brother. "Save your strength."

"Namontack was moved to a different village to stay with the medicine woman, Takhi. She is good with providing longterm care for the chronically sick and injured," Powhatan explained. "If we successfully remove the musket ball from my son's leg, I will bring you to see him."

"Hm," John Rolfe uttered. "Is this other village very far away?"

Powhatan shook his head. "Half a day's journey at most."

"Right then," John Rolfe decisively concluded. "I'm off to Jamestown. Let's see if we can't nip this conflict in the bud before things get any worse. Pocahontas, where did the warriors whisk Snow Angel off to last night?" he inquired, turning to the Powhatan princess.

"This way," Pocahontas replied, taking John Rolfe by the hand. "I had a small stable built for my horse, Opileskiwan. I told the warriors from Mattica to take Snow Angel there too," she explained as she lead him out of Kekata's hut. Chief Powhatan followed behind them.

John Rolfe's eyes widened. "Opileskiwan?"

"Yes. The gray horse that you brought me as a gift of peace, remember?" she reminded him.

"Of course I remember! Opileskiwan. Hm. Such an odd-sounding name for a horse," John Rolfe remarked. Pocahontas raised a brow at him and Rolfe held up a hand defensively. "Not that I dislike it. It's certainly very unique. What in the world does it mean?"

Pocahontas smiled. "It means 'soft nose.'"

John Rolfe paused a moment and then burst into laughter. "On the contrary, that's an excellent name for a horse. They certainly do have soft noses, I'll admit," he said.

Pocahontas's smile widened. "That's exactly what I thought when you presented him to us. I had seen the horses in Jamestown but never gotten to touch one before," she giggled.

Pocahontas lead John Rolfe and Powhatan through the village and back to the chief's family longhouse. She headed straight for the door of their home. "I thought we were going to a stable," Rolfe said in confusion, albeit he readily followed Pocahontas inside.

"I want to pack you some food first," Pocahontas replied. "If Jamestown is having a shortage, I wouldn't want to send you there without making sure you'll have something to eat."

"Oh," Rolfe uttered.

Pocahontas dug up John Rolfe's old rucksack from the journey and sifted through it, taking out all the unnecessary tools and pots. Chief Powhatan sat on his throne as he waited. Rolfe was admiring one of the painted skins all the while, not really paying attention. He rather jumped in surprise when Pocahontas spoke his name with a tone of displeasure. "John, what's this?"

When Rolfe glanced over, Pocahontas was holding up a familiar item. It was the red fox mask that he had found somewhere along their journey. He recalled having left it behind in the snow and raised a brow in surprise at the sight of it. "How on earth did that get here?"

"I don't know," Pocahontas replied. "You tell me. It was at the bottom of _your_ rucksack."

John Rolfe looked insulted. "Are you accusing me of smuggling that thing to Virginia behind your back?" he countered, placing his hands firmly on his hips. "I know nothing of it!"

"Don't lie!" Pocahontas charged. "I told you I wanted to leave this behind, so why is it here? I doubt the mask just sprouted legs and crawled into your travel pack on its own."

John Rolfe then frowned, hurt by the accusation. Pocahontas really did not believe him. He huffed. "Pocahontas, listen to me. If I had wanted that mask, I would have argued with you and insisted on keeping it. The fact of the matter is that I didn't care that much so I went with what you wanted to do with it. The very last thing I would do is go behind your back and sneak that item into my rucksack knowing full well I was going against your wishes and lying about it!"

Pocahontas still had her eyes narrowed at him in suspicion though he had made a compelling argument. Chief Powhatan glanced from his daughter to John Rolfe and back again. "Pocahontas, what's the big deal? It's just a mask," Powhatan remarked, not understanding why it mattered in the least. "If you don't want it, give it to me and I'll get rid of it for you."

"No!" Pocahontas retorted, holding it to her chest. The look on her father's face suggested that he thought she was nuts. She laughed nervously, looking down at the mask in her hands. "No, I mean… I-I couldn't ask you to do that, Father. I'm sure I can take care of it myself. It's not really a big deal. Sorry, John," she apologized, reaching up to the top bench over her bed. She pulled down a buckskin and wrapped the mask up in it. Then she stuffed it under her bed. Anything under her bed was off-limits to others. Everyone in the village knew not to touch the personal belongings of other people so she felt relatively confident that the mask would not be bothered.

John Rolfe gave her a momentary skeptical look before brushing the matter off his shoulders entirely. "Right then, you were packing me a lunch as I recall?" he reminded her.

"Oh, right," Pocahontas uttered. She picked up the rucksack, carried it over to the food storage in the back of the room, and loaded it up with nuts, dried fruits, corn, and meat jerkies.

"Whoa!" Rolfe protested. "That's a lot of food. Is it really necessary, Pocahontas? I should be back by this evening with the medical equipment for your brother's care anyway."

Pocahontas flashed him a grin. "Just a precaution. If you don't need all of it, you can just bring it back when you return," she replied, tying down the flap so nothing would fall out. She handed the fairly heavy pack to John Rolfe and patted him on the shoulder. "Now to the stable."

John Rolfe and Chief Powhatan followed Pocahontas out the door and around the longhouse. The little stable was right behind the building, just out of view. Neither horse was visible from the top of the stalls at first so Pocahontas got worried that someone might have let them out early. She ran over only to discover the two horses curled up together in the hay on the ground. The gray stallion was resting his back against a wall and the smaller white mare was leaning against him, nuzzling his shoulder. When Rolfe caught up with her, both humans burst into laughter at the sight of the lovebirds. "Snow Angel, my dear, I see you've found yourself a nice gentleman friend," Rolfe remarked in amusement, carrying the pack over his shoulder.

"I wonder if they'll make some foals for us," Pocahontas thought out loud.

"What is it?" Chief Powhatan asked as he caught up with them, peering over the wall of the stall. His eyes widened. "They do seem fond of each other," he agreed.

John Rolfe snickered again. "Opileskiwan, old chap, have you found yourself a soul mate?" The stallion bobbed his head. "Good man!" Rolfe concluded. He whistled for Snow Angel. The white mare slowly rose to her feet and shook out her coat, whinnying as the Englishman opened the door to the stall. "Come along, Snow Angel. I'll be needing a ride to get where I'm going."

She trod out of the stall and turned to nibble on Rolfe's hair. He patted her nose and slung his rucksack over her shoulders, deftly hopping onto her back. "Don't you want that tied down?" Pocahontas inquired, pointing to the rucksack on Rolfe's lap. "Won't you use a saddle?"

John Rolfe shook his head. "Not necessary. Father taught us all how to ride bareback anyway," he replied, giving Snow Angel the signal to start walking.

Pocahontas hopped in front of them, bringing the mare to a sudden stop. Snow Angel whinnied. "Wait! I want to go with you," Pocahontas said, whistling for Opileskiwan. The stallion rose to his feet as well and walked out of the stable and right up to her.

"No!" Chief Powhatan and John Rolfe charged in unison, startling Pocahontas.

She glanced at the both of them with a look of surprise. "Why not?"

"It's not safe, Pocahontas. It's not safe for any of your people to approach Jamestown until I've ensured the settlers won't take up arms against you or anyone else," John Rolfe explained.

Powhatan chimed, "I will not have it, Daughter. For all we know they might try to kidnap you to ransom more corn out of us. The tribe needs that corn to survive this coming bad winter."

Pocahontas frowned and looked at John Rolfe again. "He's right, Pocahontas. I'll let you know as soon as it's safe for you to come visit the settlement. But you mustn't go anywhere near it before then, understand? Not even to look at it from a distance. Promise me!"

Pocahontas gave John Rolfe a petulant look but she cast her gaze downward and reluctantly nodded. "Fine, I promise," she replied. "But you must promise to check on Samuel Quincy and his wife and daughter! I am a friend of the family and I want to know if they are alright."

John Rolfe nodded. "Of course, I'll ask after him. I should be back by this evening at the very latest. Now unless there's any last minute business, I must say adieu to the both of you."

Chief Powhatan waved goodbye and John Rolfe gave a nod, signaling Snow Angel to go. She whinnied and proudly trod off down the path that the village warriors had dug earlier, leaving Powhatan and his daughter behind. Once he was gone, Pocahontas started wringing her hands worriedly. "Is something wrong, Daughter?" Powhatan inquired, ushering her to their home.

Pocahontas walked with him. "I just really hope everything goes alright. I know John will do everything he can but I'm still worried. Hungry people can be desperate people. The food shortage is still an issue, even if we strike up peace with the settlers again. I just don't see any feasible solution if there isn't enough corn to feed everyone through the winter."

Powhatan appeared troubled as well. "It troubles me greatly too. But just because we don't see the solution yet doesn't meant here isn't one. Yes, I sorely wish the settlers had listened to me this spring and planted enough food to sustain themselves over the winter. Maybe they'll finally learn their lesson if they suffer enough hunger pangs. I just hope that such a lesson will not cost any lives. That seems too severe a punishment, especially considering the ones to suffer most will likely have had the least say in the decision not to plant food in the spring."

Chief Powhatan held the door open for his daughter. She was about to step inside when a sudden familiar voice called to her. "Pocahontas!" her best friend cried, bolting toward her.

Pocahontas looked back and gasped, her frown turning upside down in an instant. "Nakoma!" she exclaimed, running to meet her friend. They embraced the moment they reached each other. "Oh, Nakoma, I've missed you so much! You have no idea what I've been through!"

"Pocahontas, I thought I'd never see you again! Chogan just told me the news! Are you alright? What happened? Where have you been and why did the ship never come into port? You…" Nakoma prattled, pulling away from her best friend. She was immediately shocked by the sight of the Powhatan princess. "Pocahontas, you look… different. Your hair, what happened to it? It's even shorter than mine now," she expressed, running her fingers through her friend's locks.

Rather than respond to Nakoma, Pocahontas was busy staring wide-eyed down at the other woman's swollen abdomen. The Powhatan princess clapped a hand over her mouth excitedly. Nakoma had to follow her gaze downward to discover what had surprised her so. _"Nakoma, congratulations,"_ Pocahontas murmured in wonderment, placing one hand on her friend's abdomen and the other over her own heart. "How long?" she asked, meeting her friend's eye.

Nakoma's face beamed with pride as she beheld her own pregnancy. "Five months. We expect him or her to be born in the spring. Chogan is very excited!" she replied.

"Nakoma, I know you're going to make a fantastic mother. I couldn't possibly be happier for you. Have you made a cradleboard yet?" Pocahontas inquired.

Nakoma bounced up and down slightly in delight. "Nah, I'm going to use my mother's old one. The same one she used with me. It's not like she's going to be having any more children."

Pocahontas nodded. "Makes sense considering you're her eldest. None of your brother or sisters are even married yet. So have you considered any names?"

"Not yet," Nakoma returned. "Chogan and I have decided to wait until we actually see the baby with our own eyes. The theory is that we'll feel inspired by the sight of him or her and the right name will just come to us. What do you think?"

Pocahontas giggled. "Nothing wrong with giving it a try."

"Pocahontas," Chief Powhatan called to her, "I'm going to meet with the elders while you enjoy your reunion with your friend. Don't forget to stick around for the village meeting later."

"Yes, Father!" Pocahontas replied.

The chief disappeared into the longhouse while Pocahontas followed Nakoma back to the latter's wigwam so they could catch up. Nakoma's husband Chogan was away on a daylong hunting trip which gave the girls plenty of time to themselves.

…

John Rolfe and Snow Angel made their way slowly through the winter forest. Because of the snow, it took more time than usual to reach Jamestown. But the moment they emerged through the forest and came upon the sight of the fortress, the white mare whinnied in fright and reared high in the air. Rolfe and his rucksack were thrown off of her back. Fortunately he had a pillow-soft landing in the white powder behind. "Oof!" Rolfe muttered.

Snow Angel turned tail and fled back the way she had come, spooked beyond reason. John Rolfe struggled to his feet and shook a fist in her wake. "Snow Angel! You get back here, you silly horse! What's wrong with you?" he called after her but she was already gone.

John Rolfe growled in irritation. _Now what could've gotten into her?_ he wondered to himself, picking up his rucksack. He propped it up on the snow and maneuvered it onto his back, pushing his arms through the straps. He tied the belt strap around his waist for support. _Well at least I'm already there. Not much further._ He waded slowly through the snow until he emerged on a bluff overlooking the settlement. Everything looked relatively normal, except the fort was snowed in as expected. If they had not alienated the Powhatans, the warriors would probably be helping them dig out at present. Rolfe sighed and took a step forward in the deep snow.

 **BANG!**

A gunshot rang out, exploding against a tree two feet to John Rolfe's left. The Englishman, fearing for his life, hit the snow. "HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Rolfe called out at the top of his lungs.

"WHO GOES THERE?" came the response.

"JOHN ROLFE! WHY ARE YOU SHOOTING AT ME?" Rolfe returned, keeping low to the ground. There was an extended moment of silence. "HELLO?"

A guard finally called to him, "APPROACH!"

John Rolfe grumbled in anger and pushed himself up from the snow, stumbling back onto his feet. He waded through the snow to the edge of the bluff and allowed himself to tumble down into the soft snow below. He got to his feet again and continued in the direction of the settlement, getting winded along the way. By the time he arrived at the gates, he was out of breath.

Three guards peered down at him from the walls. "What are you doing outside the fortress?" one of them charged. "Don't you know the governor's law? And why are you dressed Injun?"

John Rolfe drew his brows together at the rude tone in the man's voice. The fools were acting like they did not even know who he was. "I told you men, I'm John Rolfe. Didn't you hear me? I've come on the authority of King James. The answer to all three of those insolent questions is a very long story indeed. Now if you'd kindly open the gates, I have business to attend to!"

The men whispered amongst themselves. When they were done, the tallest one turned back to him. "John Rolfe? We thought you returned to London last winter," he remarked.

Rolfe slapped his forehead. "I did but I came back! That's all part of the story. Let me in!"

"We're a bit snowed in at the moment but we'll send some men out to clear the gate. I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit, chap," the shortest guard replied.

 _Chap?_ John Rolfe thought crankily. _Just who do you think you're talking to?_ He huffed and untied the belt strap, dropping his rucksack into the snow. Then he folded his arms grumpily over his chest and plopped down into the snow himself to wait. "Hurry, please. I haven't got all day!"

A minute later, three men with shovels jumped over the wall and landed in a pile of snow outside the fortress. They quickly went to work clearing the snow that blocked the gateway into the settlement. The wait was close to twenty minutes and by the time the gate was ready to open, Rolfe's bottom was ice-cold. He pushed himself back up to his feet and grabbed the travel pack, hefting it up onto his back again. The men were only able to open the gate a crack and the diplomat was forced to squeeze through. The moment he entered and looked around, many pairs of eyes were staring at him. Women and children peeked out of windows. The blacksmith stopped his work. Even the inside shovelers stopped shoveling. Rolfe stood up straight with his usual air of authority and turned to the three guards. "Now I would like to know just which one of you clowns shot at me. I could've been killed!" he charged, glaring at each one in turn.

The two taller ones pointed at the shortest one and John Rolfe turned full attention to that individual. The guilty party shrugged. "I thought you was an Injun from the distance."

"And why, pray tell, were you attempting to shoot at Indians? Did God not command 'Thou shalt not kill'? You, sir, are a sinner. Pray you go to church on Sunday and repent for your crimes," John Rolfe ordained, waving the men off. "As for me, I'm off to the Mother Wiggins Inn."

The irked Englishmen left his brethren standing there dumbfounded as he trudged along a narrow shoveled path towards the inn. He passed by the governor's small mansion along the way, a building which was obscene in size compared to every other in the settlement. The diplomat knocked politely on the door of the inn once he arrived. Fortunately the way had already been cleared by the shovelers. A few short moments later, the door swung open and Rolfe was greeted with a smiling face that he recognized well. "Hello and welcome to the Mother Wiggins Inn! I'm afraid we haven't any victuals to offer but beds are certainly available!" Wiggins greeted, gasping when he recognized the other Englishman. "Lord Rolfe?! You…" He looked Rolfe up and down and his eyes widened. "You are dressed like an Indian. How quaint."

John Rolfe smiled and offered a handshake. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance again, Mr. Wiggins. I am here on investigation and on a diplomatic mission to repair relations between the settlement and the local natives. To do that, I will need your hospitality. Don't worry about food, I've brought my own. May I come in?" Rolfe greeted amiably.

"Oh, I do thank the heavens!" Wiggins lauded, casting a grateful glance to the skies. "You must be the savior I've prayed for. Do come in and make yourself at home." The innkeeper stepped aside and waved for John Rolfe to enter which he did. "You want the private room again, sir? It's available! Business hasn't been so good lately because of the food shortage."

"Yes but first I must speak with you about payment. May I rely on a tab for now? You see, I was on a ship heading here but it was attacked by pirates. I'm afraid the money and belongings I had with me are no more and I'll have to send to England for more currency. When it arrives, I will be able to pay off the debts I accumulate here," John Rolfe explained, brushing the snow off his body and rucksack. He dropped his pack to the ground and started unbuttoning his coat.

Wiggins gasped, a look of abhorrence falling over his features. "Pirates?! How frightful!"

"Oh, it was frightful indeed," Rolfe confirmed. "Would you believe I met the dreaded Captain Bleud and Finley Flame face-to-face. All the rumors are true, I tell you!"

The innkeeper pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, looking almost faint. "Oh, you poor soul. However did you survive? I… Oh, look at me! Interrogating you when you've already been through so much. Please, give me your coat. I'll hang it right up in the closet."

John Rolfe handed over his coat. Once it was put away, he followed the innkeeper to the only private bedroom in the inn. The bed was made and the sheets were fresh. The Englishman put his rucksack down by the desk and turned back to Wiggins. "I'll be in need of parchment. I've got many letters to write, among other things. When is the next ship expected to arrive?"

"The next ship?" Wiggins repeated, putting a finger to his lower lip in a moment of thought. "I do recall the governor saying it would not be until late winter to early spring, I'm afraid. I worry that our poor settlement won't make it that long. The governor has us on very strict rations," the innkeeper replied, placing a hand to his growling stomach. "Now while we may be short on food, I'm happy to report that parchment is quite plentiful. I'll go fetch you some straightaway, Lord Rolfe." He took a polite bow and then hurried out of the bedroom door.

John Rolfe pulled off his snow pants and hung them over the back of the wooden desk chair to dry on the outside, pushing them closer to the small fireplace. He sighed and took a seat on the bed, sprawling out across it to think. Wiggins returned within a few minutes with a stack of parchment under one arm. He carried a quill in one hand and a bottle of ink in the other. The innkeeper placed all the items neatly on the writing desk. "Is there anything else I can do for you at the moment, Lord Rolfe, or would you like some time alone?"

Rolfe sat up on the bed and rubbed his chin. "Come to think of it, I could use a warm bath, a shave, and a change of clothes before I get started," he replied.

Just then they both heard the sound of a closing door coming from the front of the inn. Wiggins glanced back in the direction of the noise and then smiled. He clapped his hands together a few times in excitement as he turned back toward John Rolfe. "Ah, that must be Mrs. Breckinridge. She works at the inn as a maid. Also happens to be a seamstress in her spare time. I'll have her draw you a bath right away. I'm sure she can take care of all of your personal needs, sir."

"That would be excellent. Thank you, Mr. Wiggins," John Rolfe replied, rising to his feet. He pulled the chair back over to the writing desk in the corner and plopped down. Opening the ink bottle, he dipped the tip of the quill pen into the swarthy fluid. The first thing he did was make a list of the tasks that he had to do, wracking his brain to remember all of them. _Number one, check on the Quincy family. Two, speak with the Jamestown doctor. Three, interview a few Jamestown inhabitants about the food shortage and the conflict with the Powhatans. Four, talk to the governor. Five, obtain a supply of musket balls from the Jamestown arsenal. Six, teach Chief Powhatan's warriors to shoot. Seven, pen the tale of my travels with Pocahontas. Eight, letters to Mum and Dad, King James, and Captain John Smith,_ he thought as he wrote.

Knowing he would have to wait until after his bath to carry out the first items on his agenda, John Rolfe went ahead and began to write the tale of his travels—starting with the pirate attack. He was busy describing life aboard the pirate vessel when Mrs. Breckinridge knocked on the open bedroom door to get his attention. "Lord Rolfe, your bath is ready. Would you like me to give you a shave afterwards or do you prefer to do it yourself, sir?" the woman inquired.

"I can do it," Rolfe replied, fully turning to greet her. She was a thin woman about a foot taller than Mrs. Jenkins. Appearing to be in her late thirties, she still had a comely face with minimal signs of aging. "Thank you, madam. Have you anything for me to wear afterwards?"

"In fact, I do! You look to be about the same size as my late husband, Mr. Breckinridge. I'll run home and get you some of his old clothes that are still in good condition," Mrs. Breckinridge offered. "Do ring the bell in the bathroom if you need anything, my lord."

With that, she was gone. John Rolfe set his writing implements aside and left the bedroom, walking through the short hall to the bathing chamber. He moved around the privacy screen to the four-legged bathtub full of soapy water. A board lying across the rim of the tub provided soap, sponge, back-scrubber, and shaving tools. Testing the temperature, he found it to his liking and began to disrobe. Once he was resting in the bathwater, he heard a knock on the door on the other side of the privacy screen. "Lord Rolfe, I'm leaving your vestments on a stool over here. Again, do ring the bell if you need anything at all. I'll be sweeping the floors nearby."

"Thank you, madam!" John Rolfe replied. He heard the door creak shut and began bathing himself, lathering up the back-scrubber and sponges with soap. Once he had washed his entire body, he began to lather up his hair and use his fingers to deeply massage his scalp. He gathered his hair up into a swirl on the top of his head and then turned his attention to the shaving equipment, lathering his face up with shaving cream. Fortunately a mirror had been placed nearly. He reached over and turned it toward him so he could see what he was doing. After he had given himself the closest shave possible, he rinsed the razor and then dipped his head into the water to rinse out his hair. He washed all the suds off and began to wring out his hair, pushing himself to his feet. As he stepped out of the tub, he grabbed a drying cloth off a shelf and used it to dry himself off. He used the cloth to squeeze the extra moisture out of his hair and then went to investigate the clothing that Mrs. Breckinridge had left behind.

John Rolfe discovered the clothes were of high quality. The maid had laid out a pair of off-white hose, red breeches with a matching cloak, a plain white dress shirt, a warm gold-colored vest, and a wide-brimmed red hat with a yellow feather. On the floor beside the stool stood a pair of dark brown heeled leather boots, highly polished. Rolfe could only assume the lovely garments had been the late Mr. Breckinridge's Sunday clothes. The Englishman put them on and found they fit relatively well, if they were not better suited to a slightly portlier man. Rolfe knew he had lost weight on the journey and probably quite a bit of it. Given the food shortage, he realized he would have to wait until late spring to get back into proper shape after the first crops came in.

The Englishman returned to his bedroom and sat at the desk near the fire to let his hair dry out, knowing better than to venture out into the cold with wet hair. He deposited the red hat in the middle of the bed. In the meantime, he continued to write his memoirs. By the time his hair was dry, it was perhaps mid-morning. He brushed and tied his hair back before putting on the hat. Then he gathered up his quill, ink, and a bundle of parchment, heading out to the front of the inn. He found the innkeeper at the greeting desk. "Mr. Wiggins, I must be off to run a few errands. Do you perchance know the whereabouts of the Quincy family? Pocahontas asked me to check on them while I was here," he spoke, gaining the thin man's attention.

Wiggins's eyes widened. "Pocahontas? She lives?" He pressed a hand to his heart. "Bless my soul, were you on the same supply ship with her that never came to port?"

"That is correct, yes," John Rolfe returned. "Pocahontas is back in the village with her father, safe and sound. You are a friend of hers, are you not?"

"Of course! When John Smith's ship came in, I was devastated to think she might be dead. Oh! Has Percy returned as well? How I've missed his little pug-nosed face! He was supposed to stay with me while Pocahontas was in England but he disappeared when the ship left. I felt horribly guilty for letting him go!" Wiggins lamented, pressing the back of his wrist to his forehead in a manner most dramatic. "Oh, tell me he's alright, Lord Rolfe!"

"Percy is doing very well," John Rolfe was pleased to report. "He's with Pocahontas at the moment, along with Meeko and Flit. They're all quite fine. But Pocahontas requested that I check in with the Quincy family to see if they're doing alright. She's very worried about her friends in Jamestown given the food shortage," he explained.

"The Quincys live on the other side of the settlement, in the house with the blue-painted front door. I haven't a clue how they're doing as we've not spoken in a while. You'll have to go see for yourself. Do give me the news when you get back. Last I heard Mrs. Quincy had fallen ill but it's possible she may have recovered by now," Wiggins replied, scratching his chin.

John Rolfe's eyes widened a bit in concern. He drew his brows together and bobbed his head. "Right then. Do wait up for me," he said. "I'll be back by the afternoon at the latest."

Wiggins rushed past and opened up the door for him. "Good luck, sir! I'll be here as always."

John Rolfe tipped his hat and left.


	2. Meeko the Messenger

**The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book II**

Chapter 2: Meeko the Messenger

John Rolfe lightly rapped on the pale blue door to the Quincys' cottage. Emma Quincy opened the door, looking more or less gaunt about the face. She appeared to be slightly intimidated by Rolfe's sudden arrival. "Is there s-something I can do for you, sir?" she timidly asked.

The Englishman offered her a smile and a handshake. "Greetings, madam. You must be Mrs. Quincy. My name is John Rolfe and I come on behalf of Princess Pocahontas. She has returned to her village. Hearing of the famine here, she's very worried about her friends who live in Jamestown and asked me to come check to see if your family is doing alright."

The woman's eyes widened in shock and amazement. "Pocahontas is alive? Oh, heavens be praised! We were lead to believe she might be dead when a ship captained by John Smith came to Jamestown," she explained, taking his hand and shaking it. "Please, do come in." She turned and called over her shoulder. "Rebeccah! Rebeccah, my dear! Come here right away!"

John Rolfe stepped into the family's small kitchen area. Mrs. Quincy offered him a seat at the table. "Thank you, madam," he replied as a young adolescent girl came running into the room.

"What is it, Mum?" Rebeccah asked as she set eyes on John Rolfe. "Who is that man?"

John Rolfe sat down and placed his writing equipment on the tabletop. He could not help but notice how skinny the young girl was, far too much so for her age. The family had to be even more food-deprived than others. Mrs. Quincy sat on the other side of the table. "My dear, this nice man's name is John Rolfe. He comes with news of Pocahontas. She is alive! He has informed me that she is back in her village with her father, safe and sound!"

The young girl looked faint. _"Oh my…"_

John Rolfe jumped up from the table and caught Rebeccah before she could fall and hurt herself. He helped her take a place at the table. "Careful now. My goodness! You must be anemic, my dear. Pocahontas will not be pleased to hear about that," he remarked, helping her into a chair.

"We haven't had much to eat," Mrs. Quincy revealed. "Whatever we get, we give most of it to our daughter but it is still not enough for a growing girl."

John Rolfe frowned. "That is dreadful. Where is Mr. Quincy if I might ask?"

"Out shoveling with the other men," Mrs. Quincy replied. "I fear for his health too."

Rolfe drew his brows together. "If he hasn't enough to eat, he shouldn't be engaging in hard physical labor like that. Can you go fetch him? I must speak with him as well."

"He has no choice. The governor holds a grudge against my husband. Last spring, Samuel went against his orders and tried to plant corn in one of the fields outside the fortress. The governor had the sprouts torn up like they were weeds and then replanted sweet tobacco in their place. He punished Samuel with hard labor and, when the food shortage struck this winter, he punished our whole family by putting us on stricter rations than everyone else. I'm afraid we are in a dire situation, sir," Mrs. Quincy explained, her eyes full of worry and sorrow. "We are starving."

Rebeccah started to sniffle and wiped a tear from her eye. "And they're only saying the famine will get worse. There just isn't enough food. Governor West says the Indians have turned hostile so they will not help us this winter. But…" she paused, a hopeful look in her eyes, "if Pocahontas is back, can she change things? Will she send us food like she did before?"

"Young Ms. Quincy, I'm afraid you've been lied to. The Powhatans are not hostile. It is our own settlement that has been hostile to them. Governor West sent a villainous band of men to attack them and steal food yesterday. Pocahontas's brother Keme was badly injured in the tussle," John Rolfe related. "It is a bad situation on both sides. The Powhatans are facing the possibility of famine themselves because of the drought this summer. Their crop yield was much lower than in previous years. And now they have to worry about their meager supply being plundered by the irresponsible men of Jamestown who refused to plant their own food this spring."

The news from John Rolfe was so shocking that the two females could do nothing but stare at him in jaw-dropped silence. Mother and daughter exchanged fearful glances. "John Rolfe, sir…" Mrs. Quincy began, turning her attention back to him. "How do you know all this?"

John Rolfe flashed a reserved smile. "I spent the night in the village and saw the wounded warrior for myself. I have promised the tribe that I would get the tools to treat the injury."

"The poor Indians!" Rebeccah exclaimed. "I had no idea things were so bad for them."

"But how were you able to get outside the fortress in the first place?" Mrs. Quincy charged. "Governor West has ordained no settlers are to leave Jamestown without his direct consent! He claims the Indians have become so hostile that they will kill anyone who steps foot outside the fort walls. It's impossible to get past the guards that control the gates."

"I wasn't in the fortress to begin with," Rolfe clarified. "Pocahontas and I were on the supply ship that never came to port. It was attacked by pirates. When we escaped them we had to go on a long journey to get back to Virginia. We stopped at Pocahontas's village before I came here."

"PIRATES?!" Mother and daughter cried in unison.

Rebeccah panicked. "Poor Pocahontas! The pirates didn't hurt her, did they?"

John Rolfe shook his head. "No, they didn't. I wouldn't let them. Pocahontas is perfectly fine… if not a bit traumatized from the brutalities we witnessed."

The girl hopped up from her seat and rushed to embrace John Rolfe. "Thank you, sir! Thank you for protecting her! She's my best friend in the world!" she cried, burying her face in his chest.

John Rolfe flushed a bit but patted the girl's back. "Think nothing of it."

Rebeccah drew back and sat down again, looking wobbly on her feet. "Lord Rolfe," her mother began, "what was it that you said about our soldiers attacking the Powhatans? Governor West told us they were going to the village to trade for corn. Early this morning he said the Powhatans refused to trade, instead attacking our soldiers. He claims the men came back empty-handed last night. There is no news of them bringing food, stolen or otherwise."

"They stole one hundred bushels of corn," Rolfe returned. "You're telling me you know nothing of this? The Powhatans will need at least half of it back to make it through the winter."

Mrs. Quincy and Rebeccah shook their heads. "A snowstorm was starting when they got back last night so we were not able to see the men returning. I suppose it's possible they could have smuggled corn into the settlement. But why would they do that and not tell us about it? They could've easily claimed that they had legitimately traded for it since none of us are allowed anywhere near the natives these days. I don't understand…" Mrs. Quincy uttered.

John Rolfe scratched his chin and started taking notes on his parchment. "Something about all this is very fishy—very fishy indeed. And I intend to get to the bottom of it!"

"I will pray for Pocahontas's brother," Rebeccah offered. "I hope he will be alright."

John Rolfe patted the girl's shoulder. "I intend to make sure that he will be alright, my dear." He turned his attention to Mrs. Quincy. "Madam, can you go fetch your husband? I'd like to speak to him as well. Tell him that he is relieved from duties on the orders of Lord John Rolfe."

"Oh, thank you, sir!" Emma Quincy cried, pressing her clasped hands to her heart. She jumped up from her seat and hustled out the door, returning with Samuel Quincy minutes later.

The man was on the verge of emaciation and shivering terribly. It greatly concerned John Rolfe. "Sir, please have a seat. I've been talking with your wife and daughter about the deplorable conditions in Jamestown," the diplomat explained, pulling out a chair for the gaunt bearded man.

Mr. Quincy trembled like an old-timer as he took a seat. "You say Pocahontas is alive?"

"Yes, she is. Might I inquire if you are ill?" John Rolfe asked.

Samuel Quincy shook his head. "Just cold," he replied, despite being wrapped up in heavy winter clothing. He did not even take the garments off once he had entered the warm atmosphere of the house. "It's hard to get warm these days. I never thought we'd have another winter like the one a few years back but it looks like we will. We must've done something to anger our Lord."

John Rolfe scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know about you all but _someone_ certainly did. Listen, the governor has been up to some malicious mischief. He sent a band of men to rob the Powhatans at gunpoint yesterday. They stole one hundred bushels of corn, an amount the natives could not afford to trade because they suffered a drought this year which drastically reduced crop yields. Mrs. Quincy has indicated that she knows nothing of this corn that was allegedly taken. Do you have any idea where the governor might have hidden it, Mr. Quincy?"

Samuel Quincy's eyes widened in shock. "I've heard nothing of this either. Most of the settlers aren't allowed to see inside the storehouse. When it's time for rations, we line up outside to receive our share. It is possible they are storing the corn in there," he reasoned. "But why would they lie? Why conceal it from the settlement? Are you sure they took one hundred bushels?"

John Rolfe nodded. "One hundred percent certain. Pocahontas's brother Keme was shot in the leg during the raid. I intend to bring whoever's responsible for that to justice."

"Heavens! Is he alright?" cried Mr. Quincy.

John Rolfe shook his head. "He's badly wounded. I intend to help the natives remove the bullet so he should eventually be alright but the surgery will hurt like hellfire."

"But how will you help them? The guards will let no one out of the gates without the governor's express permission but he refuses to even see anyone face-to-face most of the time. So how will you obtain that permission even if he's willing to give it?" Mr. Quincy asked worriedly. "The governor is a baron. Do you have a station to match, Lord Rolfe? Oh please, say you do!"

John Rolfe shook his head again. "I'm afraid Governor West outranks me. But I come on the authority of King James and a king certainly outranks a governor. I'll demand to talk to the governor face-to-face to get his side of the story first though. I'd rather not have him deposed if he can be reasoned with," the diplomat explained. "He deserves a chance to explain himself."

"I fear you will have no luck but I trust you will do the right thing, whatever happens," Mr. Quincy replied. "Even if the problems with the governor are resolved, I fear we are not in for a good winter. I can see no way around the food shortage."

John Rolfe rose to his feet with his papers and offered Mr. Quincy a handshake. "Keep praying to the heavens and we just might find a way around it. I thank you for taking the time to talk to me, sir. I will drop by later today with a present for you all but I have some other errands to run first." Samuel Quincy looked interested at the mention of a present and readily shook hands with Rolfe. His grip was a bit weak but Rolfe did not mind. "Furthermore, I give you permission to take the next three days off. If anyone has a problem with that, send them to talk to me personally. I'm staying at the Mother Wiggins Inn so they should have no trouble finding me."

The Englishman leaned down to the table and filled out a piece of parchment as a permission slip. He signed it and handed it to Samuel Quincy. "If anyone protests, show them that."

"Thank you, Lord Rolfe!" Mr. And Mrs. Quincy both exclaimed in unison.

John Rolfe tipped his hat. Mrs. Quincy showed him to the door and let him out after a few farewells. Then onward Rolfe went to his next errand: to check out the Jamestown storehouse.

…

Pocahontas and Nakoma sat on the floor of the latter's wigwam, sewing clothes by the fire as they spoke. Pocahontas's attention dwelled on her best friend's abdomen. Nakoma caught her staring and she flashed Pocahontas an impish grin. "It's okay, Pocahontas. I'm two years older than you. You've got plenty of time. I bet you can't wait for John Smith to get back."

The Powhatan princess looked curious as she made stitches. "He's coming back?"

"Well… yes! Once he finds out you're here, I'm sure he'll be in on the next ship. Why do you think he came here in the first place?" Nakoma pointed out.

Pocahontas raised a brow. "Mattachanna said he never mentioned why he came here in the first place. So honestly I haven't a clue. Last I had heard from him, he was off on some new big adventure," she expressed, sighing in regret. "I should've asked him to write this time."

Nakoma laughed awkwardly. "Why would he go off on some big adventure?" she asked with a quizzical look in her eyes. "Surely you're the biggest adventure he could ever hope for."

"John Smith is a wanderer at heart," Pocahontas revealed. "I doubt he would ever be happy staying in the same place. When King James granted him his own ship, he asked me to sail off to new lands with him but I refused. My heart belongs here with our people."

Nakoma paused, an air of sincerity befalling her. She put down her sewing and turned to face Pocahontas fully. "Is this about what I said when you left? Never forget this land? Pocahontas, I didn't mean to imply that you should set aside your happiness for our sakes! If your path leads you to the open sea with John Smith, you have my blessing to go!"

Pocahontas was astounded. "What…? No! Nakoma," she cried, "this has nothing to do with what you said! My heart truly does belong here with our people. If it didn't, I would have left with John Smith right after he was injured by Ratcliffe all those years ago."

Nakoma was silent a moment. She gave Pocahontas a stern gaze. "Pocahontas, listen to me," she said. "Things were different in those days. You've been making sacrifices so long. All you ever think about is keeping peace with the settlers. Once this new peace treaty goes into effect, there won't be a need for you to stick around anymore. We'll all be fine, I'm sure of it."

"What makes you think this is about self-sacrifice?" Pocahontas countered. "Does it really seem that odd that I would forgo leaving my home to be with a man? I belong here, my heart belongs here, Tsenacomoco is where my path has lead me back to. I could not be happy exploring lands, never to settle down. I need my home to be happy and this _is_ my home, Nakoma."

Nakoma watched Pocahontas in silence for a few moments as the Powhatan princess continued to sew at a moderate pace. "Seriously?" Nakoma finally uttered. Pocahontas looked over at her. "Swear to me you aren't saying these things just to make me happy. It's true, you really wish to stay?" Nakoma urged, looking for reassurance in her friend's eyes.

"I swear it on the spirit of my mother," Pocahontas replied without hesitation.

Nakoma placed a hand over her heart and clambered forward, enveloping Pocahontas in a big hug. The Powhatan princess returned the affection. "And I couldn't be happier!" Nakoma declared, squeezing Pocahontas around the middle. "You'll stay and help me raise my child? Be as beloved an aunt to my little ones as I will be to yours?" she suggested hopefully.

"Absolutely!" Pocahontas returned. "I can't wait!"

Nakoma wiped a tear as it fell. She beamed with happiness as she took up her sewing again. "Ah ha ha," Nakoma laughed merrily, "this is wonderful!" Pocahontas replied with a wide smile of her own. They worked in silence for a few minutes until Nakoma had a thought. "So I have a theoretical question, Pocahontas," she expressed, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Pocahontas looked up again. "Mm?"

"What if…" Nakoma began, pausing to increase anticipation of the question, "John Smith's path lead him back here? Imagine if he promised to stay here and proposed marriage to you!"

Pocahontas's heart almost stopped at the sudden boldness of her friend's inquiry. Normally Nakoma was much more subtle. Pocahontas shook her head. "I do not wish to marry John Smith. I do not feel that way about him anymore. Honestly, I'm not sure if I ever did. I may have been deeply in love with him but I don't think either of us ever considered marriage. Marriage is a very serious matter." She chuckled. "I realize I probably sound just like Kocoum saying that."

Nakoma could not believe her ears. "Who… are you exactly and what have you done with Pocahontas?" she charged, only half-serious but sounding rather worried.

"I've changed, Nakoma," Pocahontas admitted. "Completely and irreversibly."

Nakoma frowned in disappointment, peering down at her work sadly. "I guess you and I are even more different than I ever imagined, Pocahontas. I've always dreamt a love like yours could have only one logical conclusion," Nakoma expressed. All Pocahontas did was shake her head and continue working. Nakoma stopped entirely. "Do you ever plan to get married at all? I mean, you've always seemed so fond of children. I naturally assumed you wanted to be a mother."

Pocahontas glanced up with a sly look on her face. "Let's revisit that topic in the spring, shall we?" she suggested in an unintentionally Rolfe-like manner, hoping to put the subject off as long as possible. It made her feel slightly guilty as Nakoma was her best friend. They usually trusted each other with secrets but, for some reason, Pocahontas did not want to tell Nakoma about her desire to marry John Rolfe just yet. She could not put her finger on why though.

Nakoma looked confused by the answer. "How come?"

"If the food problem isn't solved," Pocahontas explained, "then it is possible I'll have no future anyway. So what would be the point of planning it all out now?"

Nakoma gave her a worried look but eventually nodded. "I really hope the man you sent to Jamestown is trustworthy, Pocahontas. You don't think…?" she began fretfully.

"I trust him with my life, Nakoma," Pocahontas interrupted. "When I tell the story at the village meeting today, you will understand why," she revealed, tying off another stitch.

Nakoma hesitantly nodded again and continued working. "I can't wait to hear all about it."

…

John Rolfe rapped on the door to Dr. Henry Leach's abode. The quaint building, serving as both doctor's office and home, was practically identical to every other house in Jamestown. Rolfe would not have been able to find it without Wiggins's directions which located it right beside the church. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" came the slightly irritated voice. The door swung open a moment later to a thin middle-aged man wearing spectacles. He was bald over the forehead and looked more than a little stressed out. The doctor looked Rolfe up and down, taking in his whole appearance. "Who are you? I've never seen you before," he remarked. Suddenly his eyes shot open in a moment of realization. "Heavens be praised! Did a ship arrive?" he cried, pushing past the diplomat to get a view of the port. He raised his spectacles to his eyes and peered through them, seeing no white sails as expected. The doctor frowned and glanced back to Rolfe.

"I did not arrive on a ship, sir," the diplomat replied. "Sorry to disappoint. I need to speak with a physician about a very serious matter. May I come in?" he inquired.

Henry Leach's face fell in disappointment. He trudged back to his door, holding it open for John Rolfe. "Yes, of course. Do come in, sir. You look to be in good health so I assume it's another matter you've come for?" the doctor estimated as Rolfe walked past him into the small abode. It was toasty warm inside as the hearth was burning bright.

John Rolfe spotted three cots around the room, two of which were occupied with patients. One was a small girl child and the other an elderly man. "What's wrong with them?" Rolfe inquired.

Dr. Leach shut the door and bolted it to keep out the cold. He glanced back over his shoulder, hearing the man's inquiry. "Little Suzie is sick with fever and Mr. Dods is… well, he's dying of old age. He has no kith or kin to care for him in his illness so I'm doing so instead. All I can do is see to his comfort, really. May our Lord Christ come for him soon. He is suffering," the doctor expressed. The old man moaned in pain, punctuating Henry Leach's words.

"That's awful," John Rolfe replied. "I will pray for them both."

Dr. Leach bobbed his head as he approached his kitchen table, gesturing for John Rolfe to take a seat. "It is good of you to pray. May I take your cloak?" he inquired.

John Rolfe removed his red cloak and handed it to the doctor who put it up on a nearby hook. The diplomat took a seat and placed his papers down on the tabletop. "As I mentioned, I've come about a serious matter," Rolfe began, lacing his fingers together. "A man outside of this settlement is seriously injured by gunfire. He has a musket ball embedded in his thigh. I'm afraid his physical condition is bad enough that he can't be moved. I was unable to bring him to Jamestown with me. That's why I must inquire about the proper treatment for such an injury. I'll need to borrow some tools to remove the musket ball myself," he explained briefly.

The doctor's eyes widened as he took a seat at the table. "Outside this settlement, you say? I'm sorry, my boy, but I'm afraid he's as good as dead. The savages aren't letting any white man, woman, or child come or go from the fortress. Didn't you hear the news from the governor?"

John Rolfe frowned slightly. Indeed the doctor was just as bigoted as Pocahontas had indicated. He naturally assumed the man Rolfe spoke of to be white and the diplomat was not about to contradict him. He held up a finger with a hopeful look on his face. "On the contrary, doctor. This injured man I speak of and I are on a truce with the natives. That is why only I may go to see to my friend's injuries. Otherwise I'd naturally ask you to come. But I do realize it would be unsafe for you. I myself was at the village earlier today and, as you can see, the Powhatans did not harm a hair on my head," Rolfe explained, lying as little as he saw possible.

Dr. Leach looked stunned. "These things are all true?" he inquired. Rolfe nodded. "God be praised! But how will you get past the guards at the gates? No one's allowed out."

"I will obtain permission from the governor."

Henry Leach hesitated before a look of relief befell him. "Right then. I will pray for your luck in receiving it. I'll get you set up with the tools of my trade, lad. What's your name, by the way?" the doctor inquired, rising to his feet to fetch the supplies.

"John Rolfe, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you," Rolfe replied, offering a handshake.

The doctor accepted it but he gasped. "Wait… You mean _Lord_ John Rolfe?"

"Yes, the same," Rolfe confirmed.

Henry Leach looked flustered. "Forgive me, milord. I didn't realize who I was talking to…"

"Not at all, doctor. You've been perfectly accommodating. Now… the equipment if you please?" John Rolfe reminded him, trying not to look overeager.

The doctor dropped his spectacles. He caught them in midair and put them back on. "Yes, of course! Right away, sir. I'm glad you brought paper because you'll need to write some of this down. The procedure can seem a bit complicated if you haven't done it before," Dr. Leach disclosed, pacing over to his small walk-in supply closet. He disappeared inside for a minute and returned with a briefcase, placing it on the table between them. It took about thirty minutes for Dr. Leach to walk Rolfe through the procedure several times, making extra certain that the diplomat knew what he was doing. "I'll need the equipment back when you're done with it."

"Of course," Rolfe replied, taking the briefcase in hand.

The doctor took a piece of parchment and started writing something on it. "The last thing you'll need is rum to treat the wound. I'll write you a prescription so you won't be charged for it at the storehouse," Dr. Leach offered, quickly jotting the information down.

"Thank you, Dr. Leach!" Rolfe replied, accepting the prescription. Henry Leach returned Rolfe's cloak and showed him out the door. The doctor bade him good luck and farewell, pointing him in the direction of the storehouse. Afterwards, when Rolfe was alone again, he was very pleased with how well things had gone. He had what he needed to treat Pocahontas's brother. Now all he needed was rum and musket balls before he would be ready to return to Pocahontas's village. He headed straight to the storehouse and presented the storehouse overseer, Bill Bates, with the prescription at the door. The overseer was a large bulky man but even he seemed to be losing weight. Without a word, Bates disappeared inside and shut the door. "Excuse me, sir!" Rolfe called him back. "In addition to the rum, I'll need to inspect the storehouse."

The overseer shook his head. "Rations aren't available until sundown. You'll have to wait your turn like everyone else, young chap," Bill Bates returned.

John Rolfe drew his brows together. "I'm not here for rations. I simply need to inspect the supplies. It is my business to solve the food crisis and, to do that, I'll need to know what we have," he explained politely. "You have my word, I shan't touch a thing."

Bill Bates raised a brow. Then he moved past John Rolfe and looked around suspiciously. _"You're really here to help us?"_ he whispered back to Rolfe with a worried glint in his eye.

John Rolfe raised a brow in response to the man's strange behavior. "Yes, sir. My name is John Rolfe. I come on the authority of the king to see to the welfare of the settlement and the restoration of peace between the settlers and the Powhatans," Rolfe explained. "Again, I shall not take anything from the storehouse out of turn. I merely want to look."

Bill Bates grabbed Rolfe by the cloak and pulled him inside. "I'm not supposed to do this," he revealed once they were alone. "Governor's orders. He doesn't want anyone to know just how low supplies are. Even at current rations, we won't last halfway through the winter. Some fear we won't make it to spring without slaughtering all the cats, dogs, and horses in Jamestown! Swear to me you won't tell the governor that I've accommodated your request!" he charged.

John Rolfe held up his hands in surrender. "I swear it! You have my word as a gentleman!"

Bill Bates looked relieved. He turned and showed the other Englishman around the storehouse. The most plentiful items were grain and flour but there were terrifying little of even those things. As Rolfe looked around, he found no hint of the one hundred missing bushels of corn. "Can you keep another secret, sir?" Bates whispered to him, still looking paranoid.

"Certainly. What is it, chap?" John Rolfe inquired.

Bill Bates pulled him in close and whispered in his ear. _"The governor, his personal guards, and high-ranking officials never come here to get food. They must have a separate supply hidden away somewhere. If my suspicions are correct, it must be in the governor's mansion. None of his guards' families seem underfed like the rest! And if you ever sneak a glance at Governor West, the man's belly is bloated out like a hog's! They must be holding out on us, I say! I walked by his house a few hours after sunset and I swear I smelt the aroma of a feast! I put me ear to a blacked out window and heard chattering and the clinkin' of wine glasses! Governor and his pets are stuffing themselves with lavish meals while the rest of us common folk starve!"_ he charged.

John Rolfe placed his own hand over Bill Bates's much beefier one and patted it. "Not to worry, my friend. I shall investigate forthwith. Again, you have my word as a gentleman."

Bill Bates still looked extremely nervous. "I'll pray for your success, milord. My dear wife and boy child depend on you!" The overseer turned around to retrieve something from a shelf and then he shoved a small keg of rum under John Rolfe's free arm. "There's your rum. I'm afraid I must let you out the back so no one'll see I let you in. You seem skinny enough."

John Rolfe ended up getting squeezed through a small window and landed in a mountain of powder. The ice-cold snow melted against the fabric of his pants, making him both wet and cold. He shivered and struggled to his feet as Bill Bates handed him his briefcase, papers, and keg through the window. He bade him farewell before closing the window and locking it.

John Rolfe struggled through the freezing snow drifts until he found a shoveled path. He put his items down and dusted the snow off. Then he returned to the inn and dried off, dropping his procured items in his bedroom. Once he was dry, he took his buckskin rucksack and headed back to the Quincys' house. This time it was Rebeccah Quincy who opened the door. She noticed the rucksack. "Is that the present you said you were going to bring us?" she hurriedly inquired.

"The present is in there, yes," John Rolfe confirmed, entering as she moved out of his way. Mr. and Mrs. Quincy were at the table, drinking hot tea. "Hello again!" Rolfe greeted as they rose to meet him. He glanced around the room and then turned his attention back to Rebeccah. "If you could please close all the blinds, young lady," he requested.

Rebeccah nodded and ran around the room, covering up all the windows. "What have you brought us, Lord Rolfe?" Mrs. Quincy inquired, looking curiously at the rucksack.

The diplomat plopped the pack down on one of the chairs and opened it, pulling out sacks of food and dropping them on the table. "Pocahontas packed this for me in case I wasn't able to get food in Jamestown. I'm sure she would want me to share with the three of you. As you can see, she provided quite a lot," Rolfe explained as the Quincys watched with starstruck eyes.

"Oh Mama, I'm so hungry!" Rebeccah cried. "Can we eat now? Oh please!" She turned her attention to Rolfe. "Thank you, Mister!" she exclaimed, embracing him around the waist.

Mrs. Quincy quickly looked through everything. "Thank you so much, Lord Rolfe. I'll make a stew right away. Won't you join us for lunch?" she beseeched.

"Yes! We would love to have you, Lord Rolfe," Samuel Quincy confirmed. "My wife is an excellent cook. Just you wait. We have lots of herbs but nothing substantial save what you've brought us. This stew will be delicious. I can hardly wait."

John Rolfe scratched his chin, thinking for a moment. "That actually sounds quite lovely. I say, what time is it? I fear the hours might have gotten away from me," he declared, looking around.

"It's just about one in the afternoon," Emma Quincy said, pointing to the cuckoo clock up on the wall. A few moments later, the cuckoo bird came out of the little wooden house and chirped once before going back inside. The woman gathered up a few different items that Rolfe had brought and carried them over to the kitchen counter. "I'll make a lovely stew with corn, nuts, jerky, and hambone. It'll be ready in an hour," she announced, pulling the cauldron out of the hearth.

"An hour?" John Rolfe thought aloud, placing a finger to his lips in contemplation. He emptied half of his rucksack onto the table and then tied it closed again. "In that case, I shall return. I need to run one more errand," he said, hefting the much lighter rucksack onto his back.

Rebeccah's mouth watered at the thought of such a nourishing meal, wishing the hour would go by faster. "Very well," Samuel Quincy said, rising to show Rolfe to the door. "We'll see you back here in one hour, Lord Rolfe. Try not to be late or you'll keep poor Rebeccah waiting."

"Certainly not," John Rolfe replied, tipping his hat as he was let out the door. "With any luck, this shouldn't even take a whole hour. I'll see you all again soon."

…

It was the upbeat sound of the drums calling the Powhatan people to the village meeting that got Pocahontas and Nakoma's attention after lunch. They put away their crafts and walked outside, finding the afternoon bright and sunny. "Today would not be a bad day for storytelling outside," Pocahontas remarked, enjoying the milder weather. They strode to the village center together where warriors, women, and children alike were filtering into the communal longhouse. People were gathering quickly, coming out of their homes to join the festivities. Once Pocahontas and Nakoma entered the longhouse, they found there were some dishes of basic foods being passed around, boiled corn-on-the-cob and the like. Not exactly a feast. Pocahontas was glad to have eaten beforehand. As she walked through the crowd toward her father, face after face was stunned to see her. It seemed everyone expected her never to return from her London voyage.

Pocahontas waved and greeted the villagers as she passed. While she knew all the locals personally, there were some she knew better than others and a few new faces present that she did not recognize from other villages. Nakoma walked around the perimeter of the longhouse, using the chief's entrance, so she could be near Pocahontas at the front with her father. The pregnant woman sat on the floor behind a crowd of children who were all seated around the central fire. Furs, sitting mats, and cushions were in place on benches and on the ground for seating.

When Pocahontas reached Powhatan, she hugged her father. "Wingapo, Father. I am ready."

Powhatan returned the embrace and smiled down at her when they drew back. He then turned to the crowd and raised a hand high in the air to bring everyone to silence, not that there was much talk beyond stunned whispering anyway. "Cheskchamay!" he announced. "My daughter has finally returned from the white man's land, against all our expectations, and she has quite a story to tell all of us. To those of you who have not heard, she returned to Werowocomoco last night not by ship but by dogsled from Mattica. Accompanying her was the white diplomat who crossed the saltwater with her to see the white chief. We have good reason to believe this man will be able to restore peace and return the corn that was stolen. Now please be seated, all."

Once everyone was sitting, Powhatan gestured for Pocahontas to take her place at his heightened throne so she could begin her tale in view of everyone. The chief himself sat on a corner bench not far from his daughter's location, right next to Kekata. Like in Mattica, Pocahontas began her tale at the beginning by starting with the voyage to and her time spent in London. During this retelling however, Pocahontas went into much more detail. Rage showed on the faces of the warriors and chief when Pocahontas revealed that she had initially been detained by King James after the bear incident. Disgust was the primary emotion in the room as she described the torture of a helpless animal. She was careful to emphasize that not all Englishmen were in favor of such practices as John Rolfe, for instance, had protested quite fervently. The Powhatans really did not need any more reasons to dislike the settlers at the current time. Tensions were high enough.

The crowd was completely beguiled by the whole story surrounding the escape from the Tower of London and Pocahontas's very unexpected meeting with John Smith. She glossed over the argument that had taken place between Rolfe and Smith that night, preferring to give more time to the tale of their return to see King James. The village watched in admiration as she described what she had said to make the king change his mind, with a little help from John Smith and Queen Ann as well. Then the story of the battle to stop the armada ensued. Pocahontas made the village keenly aware of how that battle had decided the fate of the Powhatan confederacy. The people cheered at the news of Ratcliffe's capture and imprisonment.

Then came the tale of Pocahontas's departure from London. The villagers understood why Pocahontas and John Smith had decided to go their separate ways, at least initially. She had to come up with an excuse for the fact that John Rolfe had accompanied her on the return voyage. Her explanation ended up being allegedly on account of Uttamatomakkin's desire to stay in London a little longer. Pocahontas claimed that Rolfe had not wanted to send her off alone, the only female on a sea-bound ship, and without a protector. And thank the Great Spirit that he had tagged along, she told them, for her fate would have been grim without a competent bodyguard onboard the ship at the time the pirates attacked. Pocahontas could see the terror on her father's eyes as she explained the reason why her hair had been cut. It made her feel guilty for putting him through such emotions which would be any parent's worst nightmare.

Powhatan's terror piqued at the recounting of the brief battle several weeks later during which they had escaped the pirate ship. He seemed immensely relieved afterwards until it became apparent that the pirates had decided to try to hunt them down. Pocahontas described the beauty of Florida with the most colorful words she could think of and she put great passion into the description of the devastating forest fire during which she had nearly perished. The crowd was amazed by their deeds in capturing the pirate ship and freeing the young French maidens. Pocahontas could see on their faces the question of what had become of the girls and the ship. She initially tried to think of a way around telling them about Nicole's assault on John Rolfe that had caused his concussion but no other explanation that she thought of made any sense. Better to beg forgiveness, Pocahontas thought as she went ahead and revealed the truth of the story anyway. Just as she thought, nobody found Rolfe was at fault for the violence.

The villagers were intrigued by Pocahontas's description of their time in Comosamico with Siwili and his family. They were completely shocked when the pirates resurfaced so unexpectedly. The women in particular seemed annoyed with Nicole's insistence on following them on their northward journey and were relieved when she finally decided to turn back.

Once the tale got to the point where Pocahontas and John Rolfe had been on their own again without Siwili, the Powhatan warriors seemed critical of Rolfe's inability to hunt though they withheld any verbal criticisms—perhaps on account of his earlier exploits. Pocahontas had just reached the part about Rolfe's fever when a high-pitched whinny sounded outside. Pocahontas bounced up with excitement. "John!" she cried, thinking Rolfe had returned. She sped out the door with a few warriors and her father following in her wake. Unfortunately all Pocahontas found was a riderless Snow Angel. The mare looked distressed at the coming storm clouds. It was evening now. The day had gotten away from them entirely as Pocahontas had recounted her tales. "John Rolfe!" Pocahontas called out, looking for the Englishman.

He was nowhere to be seen and Pocahontas looked back to her father worriedly. "Why would he send his horse back like this?" Chief Powhatan inquired. "Did she bring a message?"

Pocahontas looked all over Snow Angel, finding nothing. "Father, I'm worried he might not have made it all the way to Jamestown. There's a storm coming. Hurry, we need to follow Snow Angel's tracks before the snow covers them up!" she cried, whistling for Opileskiwan.

…

The overseer of the Jamestown armory had been a very stubborn and portly man that John Rolfe assumed to be among Governor West's personal guards. There were plenty of small crates full of musket balls but the man, George Walker, insisted that Rolfe had to be a soldier to receive any—that was until Rolfe informed Walker of his title. Without personal identification on him, the diplomat had to get Mr. Wiggins and a few other witnesses to vouch for him that he truly was the man he claimed to be. Only then did Mr. Walker agree to hand over ten crates of ammunition for Rolfe's _recreational hunting pleasure_. The Englishman found the ammunition crates, only a foot by a foot by three quarters of a foot in dimension each, immensely heavy seeing as they were full of lead. He ordered them sent to the inn and stored in the lobby for the time being.

Thanks to Walker's shenanigans, John Rolfe was nearly late for lunch after all. He apologized to the Quincy family after explaining what had transpired as they all sat down to eat. They held hands for Grace and then chowed down. Mrs. Quincy's stew was absolutely delicious. Samuel had not been exaggerating when he had stated that his wife was an excellent cook. Rebeccah found the meal so good and filling that she declared it felt like Christmas had come early. At that point, it occurred to Rolfe to ask just how far away Christmas was. He had completely lost track of the months during the journey back to Virginia. "Christmas is only four days away," Samuel Quincy revealed in response to Rolfe's inquiry. "Though I'm afraid the settlers won't feel much like celebrating this year if the usual feasting can't accompany it."

John Rolfe frowned. "Nonsense. We ought to celebrate our Lord's birth whether our stomachs are full or not. Just imagine what the world would be like if Jesus had never come! We can't take his teachings for granted. I say we hold a celebration, even if it's a small one."

"Yay!" Rebeccah cheered, turning to Mrs. Quincy. "Oh Mama, can we? I don't mind if there isn't much to eat. I just want to celebrate our Lord Christ's birth!"

Emma Quincy had a thoughtful look on her face. "I suppose we could. But what would we do for the celebration? Lord Rolfe, can you play the fiddle or any other instrument? It would be nice to sing carols. We probably should refrain from dancing to excess though as that would make us work up an appetite," she remarked, meeting eyes with John Rolfe.

"Agreed. No, madam, I can't play the fiddle personally but that doesn't mean we can't find someone who can. The only instruments I know are the harp and, well," John Rolfe began, pulling his ocarina out from under his shirt. He showed it to them. "I'm still rather learning how to play this thing. I received it from a dear friend upon our parting."

Rebeccah was fascinated by the item. She reached forward to touch it and Rolfe let her. "It's so pretty. What is it?" she inquired, admiring the bright colors.

"It's called an ocarina, a type of flute," John Rolfe explained. "I don't know if I could play Christmas tunes on it. I'd have to practice. But then again, Christmas is still several days away." He brought the ocarina up to his lips and started to play a few notes.

"It's so pretty!" Rebeccah lauded.

Mr. and Mrs. Quincy nodded in agreement. "I think that could make some very pretty Christmas music if you could figure out how to play it properly," Samuel remarked. He snuck a glance at his wife. "My dear, don't we have some sheet music for Christmas carols hidden away somewhere?" He met eyes with Rolfe. "When we were in London, we lived with a dear cousin who was very proficient at the fiddle. Unfortunately he died while I was away. My wife brought his fiddle and music when she and Rebeccah came to live with me in Jamestown. But we haven't anyone in the family who knows how to play it. It's probably horribly out of tune anyway."

"Perhaps one of you should take up practice?" Rolfe suggested, eyeing Rebeccah in particular. "If you can find a teacher. There's a few hundred people in Jamestown. Surely someone knows how to play the violin that is willing to teach the skill."

Rebeccah had a thoughtful look on her face in response to the suggestion. Samuel Quincy ruffled his daughter's hair a bit. "Not a bad idea at all. That would be one way to honor Cousin Pip's memory, now wouldn't it? Hm, Rebeccah? You're a fast learner besides."

Rebeccah nodded but sighed. "I wish he was still here to teach me."

Once the meal was over, there was still more than enough stew left for dinner that night. Rolfe told them that he would be in the Powhatan village so he would not be able to join them. The first place the Englishman headed was the stables as he would need a ride since Snow Angel had run off. He knocked on the broad stable doors when he arrived. "Hello? Stable master?"

"Coming, lad! I'm coming!" came the marked accent of an ill-tempered Scotsman. The doors were pushed open to the sight of a beefy black-haired man with bristles on his chin. He looked the well-dressed gentleman up and down and seemed to sigh. "What can I do ye for?"

John Rolfe smiled and tipped his hat. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Beast. I'm here because I need to rent a horse. May I come in?" he asked, taking a peek inside at the horses.

The stable master seemed taken aback by Rolfe's good manners. His face lightened a bit. "Call me Ben," he replied, pushing the door aside for John Rolfe to enter. "What's your name, my boy? I can't help but feel like I've seen ye before," he said with a thoughtful look.

"John Rolfe," the diplomat replied absent-mindedly as he stepped inside and looked around. There were four stalls on one side of the building with horses and four on the other. At the very end was the largest stall of all but it was empty. To Rolfe's left, in the front of the building, stood a cart in storage for the winter and to his right, a large red sleigh. "Ah! Just what I need!" he announced, pointing to the sleigh. "I'll need to rent that as well. I have some supplies I need to carry and that sleigh will do the job just perfectly," he expressed, walking over to examine it.

The Scotsman raised a brow in surprise, realizing he was in a high-ranked official's presence. "You mean _Lord_ John Rolfe? From London?" he asked, rather in shock. "Where do ye intend on taking the sleigh, milord? The guards won't open the gates for no man," Ben warned, walking up beside Rolfe. "Although," he considered, looking over the diplomat's posh demeanor, "I suppose for a man of your rank, exceptions might be made more easily than for others."

But John Rolfe did not seem to hear Ben as he was distracted by something in the bed of the sleigh. Rolfe stepped up onto the vehicle and knelt down, picking something off the dirty floor.

"What've you got there?" Ben asked, leaning forward.

John Rolfe showed him a few kernels of golden winter corn. "Did you rent this sleigh to someone else recently?" Rolfe inquired. "Or have these been here awhile?"

Ben looked surprised at the sight of the corn. "The governor used it yesterday. He said he was going to the Injun village to negotiate for corn but came back empty-handed. I suppose I hadn't had a chance to clean out the bed yet," the Scotsman expressed, looking puzzled by the corn. Suddenly he drew his brows together in anger. "I knew that man was a liar! He must be holdin' out on us!" he snapped, slamming a fist into an open palm. "I can't stand men of his creed!"

John Rolfe nodded in agreement, a look of determination falling over him. "Indeed it looks like he certainly wasn't as empty-handed as he claimed to be," he replied, dropping the corn kernels on the ground. He brushed off his hands before hopping down from the sleigh. Then he slowly headed down the aisle between the horse stalls, examining each stallion, mare, and gelding in turn. The names of the horses were inscribed on copper plates attached to the stall doors. _Midnight, April Showers, Dusty, Lotus, Wind Breaker, Thunder, Shadow, Hercules and… Snow Angel._ Rolfe gasped. "Snow Angel?!" he exclaimed, peeking into the large empty stall. There were little bundles of white hairs embedded under splinters in the wood along the inside.

"Aye," Ben replied, walking up beside the Englishman. He hung his bulky forearms over the side of the stall. "Snow Angel was the governor's prized mare. Word is she got away from 'im some months back. God bless her heart. The governor had a mighty temper with the old girl. If she got confused or failed to follow a command to perfection, he would beat her with a long leather whip until the blood flowed. It was hard to watch. But I had no authority to make the man to stop. I would've liked to sock 'im in the eye for what he did to that beautiful animal!"

John Rolfe frowned. He had seen no scars on the mare but that had to be on account of her long winter coat. No wonder she had fled at the sight of Jamestown. _"Poor thing,"_ Rolfe uttered to himself. "And there's been no clue to her whereabouts since then?"

"The governor sent out hunting parties but all came back empty-handed. Eventually the search was abandoned when it was pretty clear she wasn't coming back," Ben acknowledged.

John Rolfe drew his brows together, making a mental note to tell Pocahontas to keep the mare hidden should any settlers enter the village. "Right," Rolfe said, straightening up. "Moving on. I need this sleigh at the front of the inn. I have supplies I need to load onto it that are too heavy to carry all the way here," he explained, strutting back towards the red sleigh.

"A'ight," Ben replied, opening one of the stalls. It housed the tall black draft horse known as Midnight. Ben reached up and put a rope around the gelding's neck, leading the compliant giant out of the stall. "Here, boy. That's a good old horse," he cooed as they approached the sleigh. "Midnight here ought to have the strength to pull along whatever you want pulled."

John Rolfe stepped aside, only slightly intimidated by the enormous animal, and watched as Ben hooked him up to the sleigh. Rolfe pushed the doors wide open for them as the Scotsman lead both horse and sleigh out of the stable. Once they were out, the Englishman closed the doors behind them. "Lead the way, Lord Rolfe," Ben announced.

"Since you let me call you Ben, I suppose it's alright if you call me John," Rolfe replied, flashing the other man a grin. "I plan on sticking around Virginia for a bit so we should become familiar."

Ben looked surprised as he followed the Englishman. "Are you sure? I mean… we aren't exactly of the same rank, you and I. I've never been on a first name basis with someone of your…"

"Yes, yes, it's perfectly fine," Rolfe interrupted. "Think not of rank, my friend, for this is Virginia. Besides, are we not all of equal rank in the eyes of God?"

Ben looked skeptical at first but he slowly smiled. "Aye! That we are, John."

When they arrived at the inn, John Rolfe was pleased to find all the crates of musket balls had been delivered and were waiting for him in the lobby. Wiggins was there to help but he was not too adept at lifting heavy items. Ben, in contrast, was strong as an ox. They helped each other load the supplies onto the sleigh, including Rolfe's rucksack, the keg of rum, and the physician's briefcase. Then they covered the supplies with a hide flap to protect them in the event of snow.

John Rolfe took the reins and headed straight to the governor's mansion. Two men were standing guard before the portico. They looked at him oddly as he rode the sleigh up and stopped in front of them. Rolfe hopped out and threw his cloak across his chest in a dignified manner. "Greetings, my good men. My name is John Rolfe. I am here to speak with the governor. We have important business to discuss if you please," he confidently announced.

The guards looked at each other strangely and then turned back to John Rolfe. "The governor says he is not to be disturbed today for any reason short of a savage ambush. Sorry, sir," the taller one replied, looking just slightly regretful. "I recommend you try again tomorrow. His mood varies from day to day. Sometimes he'll take guests and sometimes he won't."

John Rolfe responded to the refusal with a perplexed look. "This is not an optional situation, my friend. I must see Governor West right away. It is most urgent. Pray do tell him that a man's life depends upon me seeing him straightaway," the Englishman returned.

The taller guard glanced at the shorter guard and swallowed nervously. "I'll tell him, sir. But I can't guarantee you'll get the response you're hoping for," he said, turning to go inside.

"Thank you," John Rolfe replied, seemingly satisfied, as the man disappeared.

The guard returned less than a minute later. "I'm sorry, sir, but the governor has refused."

John Rolfe drew his brows together. "Oh, has he? Hm," he replied, thinking to himself. "I'll tell you what. I suppose it isn't absolutely critical that I see him in person today. All I really need from him right now is a permission slip to go through the front gates. There's an injured man who can't be moved outside the settlement and I must get to him with some medical supplies. Do you think you could just ask the governor to write the permission slip real quick? Tell him I promise not to bother him again today after that," he explained.

The tall guard seemed to start sweating at the request. "Alright, Lord Rolfe. I'll ask him that one last thing. But I'm telling you, the governor's ill-tempered today. I wouldn't get your hopes up," the man warned, heading back inside with a very nervous look on his face.

"Thank you!" Rolfe called after him.

Thirty seconds later, the guard returned looking like he had seen a ghost. "The g-governor says no man is to leave the settlement for any reason. And he says he doesn't care who you are, if you bother him again he'll make you regret it," the man revealed. John Rolfe looked appalled and he felt a flare of anger. He breathed in sharply and took stepped forward, intent on going to see the governor himself whether the man liked it or not. The two guards immediately crisscrossed their lances, blocking his path. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't let you do that!" the taller one charged.

"Don't you men care about the greater good?! What will God think of you? To let an injured man suffer and die to appease an ill-tempered baron is a sin of cowardice!" Rolfe raged.

"Don't make us arrest you, Lord Rolfe," the shorter man finally spoke.

"We are sorry!" chimed the taller one, looking truly repentant. "But these are desperate times and our families depend on us keepin' a good rapport with the governor!"

"One wrong move and we could end up like the Quincys!" the shorter one cried in fear.

At the threat of arrest, John Rolfe held back the flare of anger until it became a smoldering tight spot in his chest. If he was sitting in a jail cell, he would be of no use to Pocahontas's family. But neither would he be of help while trapped in the fortress. He needed time to think up a solution and flashed both guards a final glare. "Judgment day will come," he told them, hopping back onto the sleigh. He stood tall as he faced them down. "I hope you men will be prepared when it does," he said as a final warning. Then he grabbed the reins and rode off toward the inn again.

John Rolfe brought everything but the musket balls inside. He returned the horse and sleigh to the stable, asking Ben to keep an eye on the ammunition for him. He then returned to his sleeping chamber and promptly chucked a pillow across the room in ire. "Curse it! I'm already late. Pocahontas and Chief Powhatan will be expecting me. What can I do?" He looked at the medical bag and then at the keg. "Hm." The Englishman reached over the bed and rang the bell for room service. Less than a minute later, Wiggins popped his head into the room.

"You rang, sir?"

"Mr. Wiggins!" John Rolfe sharply greeted. "I need an empty bottle with a cork!"

Wiggins smiled. "Right away, sir!" The innkeeper disappeared for a few minutes and then reappeared with exactly what Rolfe had ordered. "Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

John Rolfe gladly took the item and shook his head. "Not just yet. I'll call if I need anything else. Thank you, Mr. Wiggins! You are an immense help, I must say."

Wiggins nodded and disappeared again. The diplomat cleared his desk and placed the bottle on top, removing the cork. He popped the cork in the keg as well and gingerly poured the rum into the bottle, filling it to the top. Then he plugged both containers up again. Once he was done with that, he opened the medical briefcase and inserted the bottle of rum. There was fortunately enough room inside as the other instruments were small. He closed the briefcase up again and glanced out the window. It was getting late in the evening and he would have a hard time finding his way to Werowocomoco without a horse, let alone with those dark ominous clouds rolling in.

"Damn," John Rolfe uttered to himself, glancing down at the briefcase. "I've got to get this to Pocahontas somehow. Oh, but their medicine man will need instructions!" Another idea sparked in his mind and he sat down to write a long letter addressed to Pocahontas and the others. However when he was finished with it, he was again at a loss for what to do. How could he hope to get the letter back to the tribe, let alone the medical supplies. If he tried to jump the wall and run, he would not make it to the village through the snow. Plus he could end up in jail if caught.

…

Powhatan helped Pocahontas down off of Opileskiwan's back and then got down himself once they arrived at the edge of the woods overlooking the settlement. The chief instructed the warriors on dogsleds to follow. Pocahontas and her father followed Snow Angel's tracks until they came to a place where it appeared that Rolfe had fallen off the horse. Human tracks lead from there up to the settlement. "Oh, thank goodness!" Pocahontas proclaimed. "It looks like he made it there safely after all. Snow Angel probably just got spooked and ran off."

"Well where is he?" Powhatan charged. "He should've returned by now."

Pocahontas thought for a minute. "We can't go to the gate and ask for him?"

Powhatan shook his head. "We cannot go anywhere near the settlement without the guards firing at us. That is how hostile Jamestown has become to our people lately."

Pocahontas looked up worriedly at the clouds as it started to snow, lightly at first. Suddenly she heard a growl and something ran into her leg, followed by another thing. Meeko and Percy were at it again, as the raccoon was holding a nut that the pug dog wanted. "Hey, you two! Stop that! Meeko, if you…" she paused, looking at Meeko. The wind started to pick up, blowing Flit by Pocahontas. She caught him in midair. "Flit, you can't fly in this weather," she said, putting him under her coat. Then she eyed Meeko again. "But Meeko, you can hop over the snow and climb over the fortress wall! Can you go and check on John for us? I just want to know that he is okay!" she expressed, fearful that something might have happened to the Englishman. Maybe his own people had turned on him. Who knew? Desperate people could do crazy, irrational things.

Meeko nodded and gave a salute. Then he ran off toward the settlement. "What exactly is he supposed to accomplish, Pocahontas? He's just a raccoon," the chief pointed out.

One of the warriors by the dogsleds dismounted and approached. "Chief, she just doesn't want to admit that the white man has likely betrayed us! We are as good as on our own at this point!"

Pocahontas gasped. "John would never betray us!"

"He is one of them! I bet we never hear from him again unless it's at the point of a fire stick!" the warrior charged, more out of despair than rage. Though he certainly was angry.

Pocahontas ground her teeth in aggravation. "I told you about all he did for our people already! Weren't you listening? Why are you so quick to condemn him when you don't even know him?!"

"I do not know what his true motives were for doing those things but somehow I highly doubt it had anything to do with true honor and ethics!" he countered. "Those white men, they always hide things! I do not trust them, I tell you. And you would be a fool to trust them yourself!"

"That's enough, Tencheke!" Chief Powhatan charged. "I advise you to withhold your judgment of the paleface for at least a few days. Anything could have happened to the white man or perhaps the long to-do list we gave him is simply taking longer than we had anticipated."

The warrior huffed and returned to the dogsled. Pocahontas peered out over the expanse of white snow. Meeko had almost reached the fortress and fortunately he had not been shot at. She watched as he scaled the walls and disappeared over the other side. "Let's just wait for Meeko to get back. I just want to know that John is alright," she expressed.

"Well he had better hurry," Powhatan replied. "The storm is picking up speed."

…

Once Meeko made it into Jamestown, he started to sniff around. The snow was threatening to cover up tracks so he had to find John Rolfe fast. He peeked in one window. A family was sitting down to a meager dinner, no signs of Rolfe. The raccoon peeked in another window, a similar scene played out. Meeko kept going from window to window until he finally came to the inn. He spotted Rolfe sitting at a desk with his head down as if he had a headache or was extremely upset. Meeko smiled and scratched at the glass, causing Rolfe to bolt up from his seat and nearly knock over the desk. The discombobulated Englishman looked at the window and then promptly smiled with relief, rushing over to it. He yanked up the glass. "Oh, Meeko! Thank goodness you're here! They won't let me out of the settlement. I'm being kept prisoner here! I say, I need you to deliver something to Pocahontas and Chief Powhatan. It's very important! Think you can do this for me?" Rolfe inquired with quite a worried look on his face.

Meeko nodded as he crawled inside, sniffing around for food. "Oh yes," Rolfe thought aloud. "That's right. I better give you a food reward." The Englishman shuffled around in his rucksack and offered Meeko some fish jerky which the raccoon promptly gobbled up. He showed the raccoon the briefcase. "Think you can carry this? All I ask in return for the fish is that you bring this straight to the Powhatans. Oh!" he uttered, stuffing in the letter. He latched the briefcase closed and then offered it to Meeko who took it in his mouth by the handle and gave a salute.

"Right-O then," John Rolfe said, letting Meeko out the window. A gust of ice-cold wind blew into the room and Rolfe shivered. "Best hurry, Meeko! The storm is picking up!" Meeko cooed at Rolfe and then ran off into the thickening flurries of snow.


	3. Hear Ye, Hear Ye

**The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book II**

Chapter 3: Hear Ye, Hear Ye

The settlement was obscured from view by a veil of white. "Pocahontas, we must leave now. It is dangerous to be out in weather like this," Chief Powhatan decided. He picked his daughter up around the waist and sat her on the horse as a fierce gust blew, holding her in place.

Pocahontas shielded her face from the wind until it died down. "But, Father," she protested as the chief mounted the horse behind her, "Meeko is still out there. Can't we just…"

"No!" Powhatan decreed. "It's too dangerous. Meeko will be fine. He is an animal and I'm sure he can seek shelter in Jamestown if necessary," he argued.

Just then the aforementioned raccoon hopped up on Opileskiwan's shoulder blades with a large and heavy thing dangling from his mouth. He dropped it in Pocahontas's lap and cooed up at her. "Meeko!" Pocahontas cried happily, hugging him to her chest. The chief smiled in relief as she tried to examine the medical bag. "It's some kind of bag," she uttered.

"Wait until we get home to open it," Powhatan instructed, taking the reins. Pocahontas held on tight to the bag. "We need to get out of here before this storm gets any worse."

Chief Powhatan called to the warriors to turn their sleds around and started back in the direction of home. Once they were back in the safety of the family longhouse, Pocahontas, Powhatan, and a small crowd of relatives and warriors gathered around the fire to examine the bag. Pocahontas placed it on the ground and opened it. The first two things she pulled out were the letter and the bottle of rum. She set the rum aside and opened the envelope.

"What does it say?" Chief Powhatan inquired as she examined it. Pocahontas was the only literate member of the tribe. While a few others could speak and understand English, the Powhatan princess had gone a step further by learning how to read and write as well.

A smile flashed on Pocahontas's face as some curious whisperings were heard around the room. "It's a letter from John!" she declared, holding the parchment up to the fire. She started to read, stopping after each sentence to translate it into Powhatan for those who did not know English.

 _Dear Pocahontas and the Powhatan people,_

 _The situation in Jamestown is much different than we thought. I'm writing this letter rather than talking to you in person because the governor has forbidden anyone to leave the settlement. I'm essentially being kept prisoner here by my own and the governor has refused to see me face-to-face thus far. I'll start with the good news. I have seen the doctor in Jamestown and obtained the medical tools contained in this bag for Kekata's use in treating Keme's injury. Detailed and illustrated instructions are included at the end of this letter. Once the operation is complete, please send the tools and medical bag back as I've promised to return them to the doctor._

Pocahontas promptly stopped reading and shuffled through the pages until she found the instructions that Rolfe's letter spoke of. "Father, I need to take this to Kekata right away! We have everything we need here to remove the musket ball in Keme's leg," she exclaimed.

"We will have to wait until the storm passes, Pocahontas," Chief Powhatan replied. "It is too hazardous to go out right now. Keep reading. I want to hear what else he has to say."

Pocahontas looked slightly disappointed but she nodded, turning her attention back to the letter.

 _I went to see the Quincy family earlier and I must report that their situation is bad—but still salvageable. Last spring, it seems that Samuel Quincy disobeyed Governor West's orders to plant tobacco in place of food. He tried to heed your father's wise advice by planting corn in one of the fields outside of the settlement. When he was found out, the corn sprouts were torn up and replaced with tobacco seeds and Mr. Quincy himself was punished with hard labor. The governor has developed a grudge against him and has further punished the whole family by putting them on stricter rations than everyone else in Jamestown. Mrs. Quincy and Rebeccah are both looking frightfully thin and I'm afraid Samuel himself is on the verge of emaciation._

Pocahontas gasped in fright at the news and glanced at her father and the others—all looked very worried indeed. "He better have shared the food you packed with them," Powhatan thought aloud. Pocahontas turned her attention back to the letter and continued reading.

 _Not to worry though. I've given them half of the food that you packed for me so they should be alright for now. We had a lovely lunch together today. I questioned them about the situation in Jamestown and learned quite a lot from them. Most of the settlers know nothing of the stolen corn. I examined the Jamestown storehouse myself. Supplies are very low indeed and the corn was not there. I believe it is being hoarded in the governor's mansion but I have no proof. Short of breaking in, I'm currently at a loss for how to proceed at this point._

Pocahontas paused, thinking to herself. "Hm… I might have an idea," she mused aloud, glancing over to Meeko and Flit who were curled up in Meeko's sleeping basket by her bed. One of her young half-brothers was sitting nearest the location. "Etchemin," Pocahontas said, "reach under my bed and get my writing basket. I have parchment, quill, and ink in there. I'm going to write back to John when I'm done reading this." The boy did as she asked, handing over the basket.

Pocahontas set it aside for afterwards and continued to read Rolfe's letter.

 _I further suspect that there is a lot more food in the governor's mansion than just corn. With any luck, this may be the solution to our food problems. I might need to oust a gluttonous governor from power to restore peace between our people but first I will need proof that he is holding out on everyone except those in his closest circle. I'll think of something. On another order of business, I have obtained the musket balls that your father ordered. The only problem is that I have no way to get them to the tribe since I can't leave the settlement. But rest assured, Chief Powhatan will have his ammunition and I will be able to teach the men how to shoot soon._

Pocahontas glanced up at her father. "Well that's good news," she said. The chief nodded.

 _Lastly, I've discovered Snow Angel's origins. She used to belong to Governor West. However he treated her quite cruelly and she ran away. If any settlers come to the village, I beseech you to hide Snow Angel. If she is discovered, they will most likely take her by force. I will keep Keme in my prayers tonight. I will be staying in the Mother Wiggins Inn just like last time I was here. Please do write back and let me know how things go with the operation._

 _Yours truly,_

 _John Rolfe_

"That's the end of the letter," Pocahontas indicated, turning the pages over to make sure there was nothing else. "Father, I'm worried about John and the Quincys," she expressed, turning toward Powhatan. "Depending upon how long he is trapped there, he might run out of food."

Powhatan nodded his head in understanding. "Fortunately you have a furry friend who is good at climbing and can act as a messenger for us. We'll just have to keep in close contact to make sure that does not happen," he expressed. He gestured toward Pocahontas's writing basket. "You were going to write a return letter, I believe?" he reminded her.

"Oh yes!" Pocahontas replied, taking the basket. She went to sit on her bed and got to work.

…

John Rolfe woke bright and early the next morning to the sound of scratching. He sat up, hair ruffled from a good night's rest, and peered over at the window. Meeko was scraping away the thin layer of ice and snow that covered the outside of the glass. "Meeko!" Rolfe proclaimed, hopping out of bed in his nightshirt. He yanked the window open which took a good bit of effort due to the ice. Some snow fell onto the floor as Meeko rolled into the room bearing the same medical bag that Rolfe had given him. The raccoon hopped up on the chair and deposited the bag on the desktop. "Ah! Let's see what we've got here," Rolfe announced, opening the bag.

The bottle of rum was empty and accompanied by a letter. Rolfe opened the letter and read.

 _Dear John,_

 _Kekata successfully removed the bullet from Keme's leg. Thank you for providing such detailed instructions. Our medicine man says the drawings really helped. Once we have the situation with the governor dealt with, you can borrow the doctor's tools again so we can travel to the other village to treat Namontack's condition. As for the governor, I've got a plan. I'm going to send Meeko and Flit to you after dark. You can help them find a way inside the governor's mansion so they can snoop around for food. Meeko is really good at sniffing out anything that is edible so he should be a great help. They will bring you the evidence you need to prove that Governor West is up to no good. As for the Quincys, thank you for helping them! Your letter got me very worried. I just hope that Samuel doesn't get sick in his condition. If absolutely necessary, I can use Meeko to send you more food. Hopefully he can refrain from eating it all before the delivery. Please continue to keep me posted on what's going on in Jamestown._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Pocahontas_

John Rolfe glanced at Meeko. "You think you can sneak into the governor's mansion? I'll go scout the place out today to see if I can find any possible points of entry. Pocahontas is brilliant. I should've thought of this," he said, almost to himself. "On that note, it's time I went to talk to the governor again. If he admits me today, maybe I can unlock a window while he isn't looking."

The Englishman sped through his usual morning ritual, shaving, cleaning his teeth, and getting dressed all within the span of thirty minutes. By the time he was out the door, he realized a fresh layer of snow had fallen and the settlers were out shoveling once again. Rolfe would either have to wait for them to reach the inn or he would have to go back and put on his buckskin snow pants to wade through the snow to get where he wanted to go. Being impatient, he decided on the latter option. He returned to his room and put on the extra pair of pants, thinking it looked silly with his outfit. _Oh well,_ he thought. _It's more about function than fashion._

John Rolfe left the inn, struggling through the snow to get to a shoveled path. He ignored the shovelers who were staring at him and proceeded to the governor's mansion. A different pair of guards were out front on the portico this time and they looked at him strangely when he arrived. The one on the left was black-haired and thin whereas the one on the right was a dirty blond and much beefier. Both were about the same in height."Hello, men," Rolfe greeted. "Please send word to the governor that I must speak with him at once."

"The governor does not want to be disturbed today," replied the black-haired guard.

Rolfe looked to be in disbelief. "Again? Listen to me! That man has responsibilities that he cannot continue to ignore. One of them is to speak with me about an order from King James."

The guards looked at each other with dread and then turned back to John Rolfe and nodded. "I'll tell him, sir," the black-haired guard conceded, heading in.

John Rolfe smiled. "Thank you, my good man."

The dark-haired guard disappeared inside for about a minute. He came back out promptly and took his station again. "I'm sorry, sir, but the governor refuses. He instructed that I am to arrest you if you do not leave immediately," the guard woefully explained.

John Rolfe looked at him in disbelief. _"How can he just…"_ he uttered in a high-pitched voice filled with suppressed frustration and outrage. He shook his head clear and examined the premises. _Right, if I can't get in then I'll have to find another way in for Meeko and Flit,_ he thought to himself. He immediately noticed the large doggie flap on the front door and his eyes widened. "Right," he murmured aloud to the guards. "In that case, I'll just be on my way. Sorry to bother you gentlemen. But before I go… pray tell does the governor have a pet cat or dog?"

The two men looked perturbed by the unexpected inquiry and exchanged glances again. "He's got a big, fat, spoiled cat," the dirty blond revealed.

 _"Shh!"_ the black-haired guard hushed him. _"Governor West might hear you say that!"_

 _"Oh, right,"_ the blond whispered back, sweating nervously. He glanced around in worry and then turned back to John Rolfe. "Why do you ask, sir?"

John Rolfe raised his brows. "Mm? Oh, it's just that I've realized that the governor has a grudge against me. I thought perhaps I could repair any negative feelings by thinking of something for us to relate over. You see, I'm quite fond of animals myself. Cats and dogs in particular," he laughed nervously, flashing a smile. "Even the big, fat, spoiled ones."

The blond raised a brow. "How diplomatic of you," the man replied. "Governor West's cat's name is Mr. Fluff. He stays inside during the winter but likes to roam in the warm season."

"Ah, I see," Rolfe returned. "Well I do hope some day I'll have the privilege of meeting Mr. Fluff and his owner. Good day to you, gentlemen," he expressed, tipping his hat.

The diplomat was about to turn and leave when he suddenly heard a child's voice calling him. "Lord John Rolfe! Help, Lord Rolfe!" cried Rebeccah as she came running up to him. "Oh, thank goodness you're here, sir!" she exclaimed as she grabbed his hand, pulling him along. "The innkeeper said you might be at the governor's mansion. Come quick! The soldiers are harassing my father! They refuse to acknowledge the permission slip you signed!"

John Rolfe drew his brows together in anger. This was just not turning out to be his day. "Oh, are they? We'll see about that!" Rolfe retorted, stomping through the snow after Rebeccah.

When they arrived at the Quincys' cottage, two soldiers were standing outside with Mr. and Mrs. Quincy. John Rolfe stopped where he was and cleared his throat loud enough to be heard by all. The soldiers turned to look at him. "Might I ask what the problem is here?" Rolfe asked.

The soldiers exchanged glances. "Are you the so-called 'Lord Rolfe'?" one of the men asked.

"I am," Rolfe confirmed.

The other soldier stepped forward and pointed to Mr. Quincy. "This man is refusing to do his fair share of work. He claims that you've given him three days off. There is a ton of snow to be shoveled and we need all the men to pitch in," he proclaimed.

John Rolfe raised a brow in mock concern. "Oh, is that all?" he returned, noticing that the soldier who had just spoken was holding a snow shovel. The Englishman stepped forward and unbuttoned his cloak, handing it to Mrs. Quincy. He grabbed the snow shovel. "Very well, I shall assist. Now leave this man alone. He is in no physical condition to be engaging in hard labor."

The Quincys gazed at Rolfe in disbelief. "You would take my husband's place?" Emma Quincy inquired, shocked that a man of rank would be willing to do such a thing for a commoner.

"Certainly," John Rolfe returned without hesitation. He turned his attention back to the soldiers. "Now run along and see to your own duties!" he charged, shooing them off. The guards looked at him like he had grown a second head and then left. Rolfe got to work shoveling a path to the Quincys' home, seeing as everyone was standing in deep snow drifts.

"Have you had breakfast, Lord Rolfe?" Mrs. Quincy inquired, eager to help him in any way.

John Rolfe rested the tip of the shovel in the snow and leaned on the handle. "Actually, no. I was rather in a hurry to see the governor this morning and it skipped my mind," he admitted.

"Come inside, you must sit down to a hot breakfast with us," Samuel offered, beckoning everyone back inside the home. "We were just about to eat when those soldiers knocked."

John Rolfe shrugged and leaned the shovel against the house. "I suppose I can eat with you all quickly. There is quite a lot of snow to be shoveled so I'd prefer not to take a long, leisurely breakfast today. I do have some good news that I'd like to share with you though. Let's go in," he replied, following them inside. Mrs. Quincy had made hot corn porridge for breakfast with dried fruits and nuts on top. It was quite delicious. As they ate, Rolfe related how he had found a way to communicate with the outside world by raccoon messenger. He also told them Keme's operation had been a success and they all prayed together for the warrior's speedy recovery.

As soon as the meal was done, John Rolfe got back to work shoveling the snow outside. Mrs. Quincy attended to him, asking him if he needed a drink every twenty minutes or so.

…

When Pocahontas had expressed a wish to her father to go visit Grandmother Willow, he had insisted that she bring along a young warrior by the name of Naganwaya as a bodyguard in case any palefaces showed up. Naganwaya was the village's new greatest warrior, having proven himself during a tussle with an enemy tribe in the heat of the summer. Chief Powhatan did not want his daughter to leave the village alone until peace had been reestablished with Jamestown. Though Pocahontas was slightly annoyed by the forced company, she soon found that Naganwaya was a fairly engaging conversationalist. He had many interesting things to say as he told her about everything that had transpired in the Powhatan Nation since her departure.

When Naganwaya was done talking about the home front, he turned the topic of the conversation to Pocahontas's travels. "So tell me, Pocahontas. Chief says that you were restless in your younger years, always pining to discover new things and go on new adventures. After all those adventures you spoke of, do you finally feel ready to settle down?" he inquired.

Pocahontas almost laughed. "Oh, you have no idea," she replied. "I couldn't be happier just to be home after all that. Once this business with Jamestown is complete, I'm just going to settle back in and help Nakoma raise her child. To think, all these years I've taken the small things in life for granted. Sewing, cooking, basket-making, I can't wait to just get back to ordinary domestic life."

Naganwaya's eyes widened. "Why, Pocahontas! That is wonderful news. I couldn't be happier for you," he exclaimed, a little more enthusiastic than Pocahontas was expecting him to be on her behalf. She just shrugged and smiled. "As for your friend's good fortune, have you thought of becoming a mother yourself?" he asked quite unexpectedly, taking Pocahontas by surprise.

She almost froze and cleared her throat. "Well, um, yeah, I mean… it's crossed my mind. Oh hey! Look, we're here!" she declared, gesturing to the snow-covered willow tree that towered over the horizon before them. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Mind staying here while I talk to her? I need a little privacy if you don't mind. I have a lot of things to get off my chest."

"Certainly," Naganwaya replied, stationing himself by a tree. "If any trouble arises or you need anything at all, just call to me and I'll be there in an instant."

"Thank you!" Pocahontas returned, flashing him a smile. "This might take a while." She turned away from him and approached the grand tree. When she arrived, she pushed her way through some drooping leaves and walked up to Grandmother Willow's roots.

A gust of leafy wind blew, rustling the branches. "Is that my Pocahontas?" came the old one's maternal voice. Pocahontas detected a hint of concealed excitement in the tree's tone.

"Yes, it is!" Pocahontas replied without hesitation, hugging one of the roots. "Grandmother Willow, I've missed you so much!" she cried, hopping up on the root. She climbed up to the stump where she usually sat as she spoke to Grandmother Willow. It was covered with snow but the old tree shook it off, making a place for the young woman to sit.

A wrinkled face appeared in the bark. "Child, what a relief it is to see you again! I knew in my heart you were alive and coming home even when John Smith came to see me."

Pocahontas gasped as she took a seat on the stump. "John Smith came to see you?"

The tree nodded. "Oh yes, he felt he needed my guidance before going off to search for you. He had no idea where to start. I told him to follow the wind and he would eventually find you. I suspect he will be back here by next fall at the latest, blown in on a nice balmy breeze."

"Wow!" Pocahontas lauded. She laughed nervously. "I feel guilty that he had to go through so much for my sake. I do hope he will get the letter informing him of my survival soon."

Grandmother Willow gave her a knowing smile, a twinkle in her eye as she revealed, "Speaking of John Smith, the spirits have been whispering amongst themselves that your heart now belongs to another. Is this true, Pocahontas?" she inquired. Her tone was not critical but truly curious as if she could not wait to learn of Pocahontas's new courtship.

Pocahontas's face went red immediately. "I-I… Well yes, it…"

"What's he like and when do I get to meet him?" Grandmother Willow blurted.

Pocahontas was rather shocked by the speediness of the request. "Oh, well… He's kind of trapped in Jamestown right now. I'm not sure when he'll be able to… Wait, what am I saying? I do want him to meet you, Grandmother Willow, but I want to make sure he is prepared first."

Grandmother Willow raised a brow. "That's rather interesting. You didn't prepare John Smith before you brought him to meet me as I recall," she noted.

"John Smith is a completely different person," Pocahontas quickly pointed out.

"True," Grandmother Willow conceded. "Well what's this new man's name at least?"

Pocahontas raised a brow, surprised she had not mentioned it already. "Oh, it's John Rolfe. He is the same man that brought me to England in the first place."

"Oh? And how do you think John Rolfe would react differently to seeing me for the first time than John Smith did?" Grandmother Willow inquired.

Pocahontas looked to be a little at a loss for words as she ran her fingers through her short black hair. "Well John Rolfe is more…" she began hesitantly, "I want to say 'impressionable' but I'm not sure that's the right word. He… I guess it's just that I don't want to frighten him away. In John Smith's case, I suppose I didn't really care if he got frightened. Not sure why though."

"I'm not trying to second guess your decision, child," Grandmother Willow pointed out. "I'm just genuinely curious about what this new man is like. So you say he is impressionable?"

"Yes," Pocahontas admitted.

"If you are concerned about frightening him away," Grandmother Willow said, "then you must be very attached to him. Him leaving you is a very painful thought to bear, is it not?"

Pocahontas nodded. "Yes, I can't imagine myself marrying anyone else. I want to spend the rest of my life with him and only him," she disclosed, folding a hand against her chest.

Grandmother Willow looked momentarily surprised. "So the topic of marriage has come up?"

"Yes, of course," Pocahontas replied. "He plans to ask Father for my hand."

Grandmother Willow almost chuckled at her own silliness. "I must admit, I'm rather surprised to hear things have advanced this far between you and him during your absence. You sound like you're genuinely ready to settle down and start a family. I always wondered when this day would come and believe me, child, I couldn't be more proud. You've been on a whirlwind with this man and it seems you have come out of it much more sure of yourself and what you want." Pocahontas beamed with pride at what Grandmother Willow had said to her. "When does John Rolfe plan to approach your father?" the old tree further ventured to ask.

"Oh," Pocahontas uttered, taken off-guard by the question. "We plan to put that off a bit until after peace has been established again. We want to give Father time to get to know John first," she explained. Yet she looked unsure of herself. "Do you... think that would be a good idea?"

Grandmother Willow had a thoughtful look on her face. "It's hard to say. I haven't seen the chief face-to-face in a while. I would have to be able to assess his mood in person before I could give you a definitive answer. I hope he doesn't become angry with you for not telling him initially, when you finally do decide to spill the beans," the old tree thought aloud.

Pocahontas frowned in worry. "I realize John Rolfe likely isn't the type of man my father always envisioned me with. It seems he has always imagined I would marry a strong warrior. But I don't think that is the right path for me," she expressed, wringing her fingers slightly.

"I think," Grandmother Willow began, "ultimately it comes down to whether or not you've made up your mind. If your father cannot sway you from your chosen path, he will have no choice but to accept it. If he respected you enough to send you on the journey to London in the first place, he will certainly respect you enough to let you choose your own life mate."

A ray of hope flashed in Pocahontas's eyes. "Really?"

Grandmother Willow nodded. "That is most certain. But do me a favor and do not keep the secret from him for too long. I trust your judgment on that, child. Make me proud."

Pocahontas nodded. "I will."

"So what does he look like?" Grandmother Willow inquired with an impish glint in her eye.

Pocahontas raised a brow. "Who?"

"Your John Rolfe, of course!" Grandmother Willow clarified.

Pocahontas blinked. "Oh! Well, um…" she thought aloud, envisioning John Rolfe. She placed a flat hand above her head. "He's about this much taller than me and he has long reddish hair which he usually keeps loosely tied back. His eyes are green like summer leaves and his skin is very fair. Though his hair is darker than John Smith's, his complexion is much lighter. He has a square jaw and a straight nose. I also love his voice. And he smells really nice all the time."

"Mm," Grandmother Willow murmured in a dreamy manner. "He sounds like a looker."

Pocahontas flushed a little and sat back, wrapping her hands around her knees in a girlish manner. She could not help but utter a giggle. "He certainly isn't difficult to look at," she confirmed, feeling butterflies in her stomach at the thought of her paramour. Then she frowned. "I miss him. I wish that stupid governor would let him out of Jamestown. I'm not used to being away from him for this long. It's very frustrating," she admitted, staring down at a patch of bark.

Grandmother Willow smirked. "Well I get a feeling that everything is going to turn out alright soon enough. All it takes is a little patience, child. You can muster some of that, can't you?"

"I'll try," Pocahontas returned.

Next Grandmother Willow went on to ask Pocahontas about her travels. The young Powhatan woman began to recount the story again, this time revealing every truthful detail since she did not need to conceal her relationship with John Rolfe. She had gotten to the part where Nicole had tried to use deceit to steal Rolfe's affection when she heard Naganwaya's voice. "Pocahontas! It's getting late!" he called out to her. "Your father will want us back!"

When Pocahontas glanced up to the sky through the threadbare winter leaves, she realized it was almost twilight. "Time must've gotten away from me," she uttered to Grandmother Willow. "How long have I kept him waiting?" she asked to no one in particular as she shook her head at her own absent-mindedness. She called back to the warrior over her shoulder. "Sorry, Naganwaya! I'll be there in a minute!" She then turned back to Grandmother Willow. "I guess I better go now," she said, pushing herself to her feet. "I'll stop by again soon."

"Good," Grandmother Willow replied. "I can't wait to hear the rest. And, when you get a chance, bring John Rolfe. Even if I can't speak to him, I'd like to see him with my own eyes at least."

Pocahontas thought for a moment. "I suppose I can do that."

Grandmother Willow smiled. "Now run along, child. Don't keep your father waiting."

…

It was late at night. John Rolfe had fallen asleep waiting for Meeko and Flit to arrive. It was the scratching at the window that caused him to rouse from his slumber and sit up in bed. _"Meeko, Flit!"_ Rolfe whispered, not wanting to awaken anybody else who might be sleeping at the inn. He yanked the window open and let them inside. Meeko cooed up at him. "Are you two ready?" Rolfe inquired, putting on a dark cloak that Mrs. Breckinridge had given him. Meeko and Flit both nodded in unison. The only source of light in the room aside from the dying flames in the fireplace was a small handheld oil lamp. The Englishman put his snow pants and boots back on.

He turned his attention back to Meeko and Flit. "Alright, boys, here's the plan. There's a pet flap on the front door to the governor's mansion that's big enough for the both of you to enter. All you have to do is sneak by the guards out front. I'm going to be waiting by a window in the back. Once you've got evidence of a hidden food supply, come and unlock the window from the inside. You can hand it to me through the window. Whatever you do, don't get caught. Understand?"

Meeko and Flit nodded again. John Rolfe used an opaque cloth to cover the light from the lamp and placed it on the desk near the window. To avoid rousing suspicion or being overheard leaving the premises, John Rolfe opened the window in his bedroom wide and crawled out onto a small mountain of snow. He turned around and reached inside, retrieving the blacked-out lamp. Meeko and Flit quickly followed him outside before he closed the window most of the way to prevent the cold from getting inside in his absence. He slid down the incline on his backside.

If not for the moon and stars, it would have been pitch black outside. There were sparse lights coming from a few windows but most of the homes were completely dark inside as the residents slept soundly. John Rolfe, Meeko, and Flit crept silently along the backs of buildings, wading through snow drifts on untrodden paths to avoid being spotted.

John Rolfe was pleased to find all windows in the governor's mansion dark. The only light coming from the premises were two torches, one on each side of the front door on the portico. Throwing a glance around a corner of the building, John Rolfe saw that two guards were stationed in the usual locations in front of the portico. Neither looked particularly alert as it was clear they both would have preferred to be in bed at such an hour. Rolfe turned his attention to the two animals. _"Looks like you two won't have too much trouble sneaking past those bozos. Just promise me you'll be careful while you're inside. I haven't a clue how light or heavy a sleeper the governor is so you'll both have to approach with caution."_

Meeko and Flit both gave him a dutiful salute. John Rolfe showed them the window he would be waiting by in the back before he sent them inside. The Englishman had to wait in a pile of snow. He remained seated in the fluff for what felt like an eternity but in reality was only ten minutes. By the time he heard a low scratch at the window, his posterior had once again been rendered cold as ice. He glanced into the window and watched as Meeko unlocked it with a _click!_ Rolfe pushed the window open as slowly and quietly as he could and smiled at the two animals. _"What have you got for me?"_ he inquired, examining them for food. He saw nothing and frowned.

Rather than offering John Rolfe what he was hoping for, Meeko and Flit frantically beckoned him inside with them. Rolfe's eyes widened. _"I-I don't know if that's such a good idea, boys. I…"_ he tried to protest but Meeko grabbed his hand and tried to pull him in through the window. _"Alright, alright!"_ Rolfe retorted. He handed the lamp to Meeko. _"Careful, don't drop that,"_ the Englishman warned as he grabbed hold of the window frame. The raccoon set the lamp aside and out of the way before returning to help Rolfe get himself through the window.

John Rolfe sat up on the window sill and brushed the snow off his pants, hoping to track as little inside with him as possible. He ducked his head down and held onto the window as he maneuvered himself inside carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. Once he was flat on his feet, he slowly closed the window until it was all the way shut. He took off his squeaky wet boots to avoid making noise as he walked and left them by the window through which he also hoped to make an exit. The Englishman was pleased to find that the mansion was very well built. The floor boards hardly creaked at all as he put his weight to them. He retrieved the lamp from where Meeko put it and turned his attention back to the animals.

The raccoon cooed up at John Rolfe and beckoned him to follow which the diplomat did without hesitation. _"What is it, Meeko?"_ he whispered as the raccoon lead him to a lavish sitting room with beautifully embroidered chairs, a large redbrick fireplace, and a colorful Persian carpet that was about three-and-a-half by five feet in dimensions. It laid across the hardwood floor right in the middle of the room and on it sat the most beautiful gilded harp that Rolfe had ever seen. Meeko promptly started sniffing around the rug. He took the edge of it in his mouth and peeled it back, revealing a corner of a concealed door which obviously lead down to a cellar of some kind.

John Rolfe's eyes widened. He carefully picked up the harp and set it out of the way. Rolfe pulled the rug aside and then Meeko started sniffing around the edges of the door. John Rolfe saw the raccoon lick his lips hungrily and use his little paws to grab onto the ring, trying to pull the door up and open. Meeko yanked with all his might but then frowned, not strong enough to lift it by himself. _"Step aside, Meeko,"_ Rolfe whispered, setting the lamp down on the floor by the door. He positioned himself in front of the door and grabbed the ring, lifting with his legs. The door was immensely heavy but he got it up soon enough, peering down into the dark space with nothing but a few steps sparsely visible in the moonlight.

Meeko and Flit had already disappeared down into the interior by the time John Rolfe had slowly and silently set the open door to rest on the floor. The Englishman raised a brow when he could hear the sounds of eating. He cautiously stepped down into the dark cellar, taking the lamp. The Englishman rested his weight against the steps behind him and removed the obscuring cloth from the lamp. Rolfe gasped at the sight laid out before him. Oh, he had found the stolen corn alright and much, much more. The floor and shelves were stacked with all manner of food items. Corn, ham, flour, pheasant, cheeses, wines, sausages, vegetables, it was a literal smorgasbord.

There was even a supply of sweet tobacco in one corner. John Rolfe's jaw was practically on the floor in disbelief at the sheer gluttony that was Governor West. He was forced to shake himself to regain his senses. _"Meeko!"_ he snapped in a bare whisper. _"Stop eating everything. The people of Jamestown and Werowocomoco need this food,"_ he chided.

Meeko dropped the second half of the pork sausage he had been stuffing his face with and looked up at John Rolfe, his furry visage laden with guilt. The Englishman hopped down into the cellar and placed the lamp atop a crate of flour. _"Don't worry, Meeko. Trust me, you'll be heavily rewarded for your work in uncovering this hoard,"_ Rolfe pointed out, giving the raccoon a wink.

The Englishman grabbed an empty sack and stuffed it with a variety of different food items, including corn. He hefted it over his shoulder. _"Come on, this is all we take for now," Rolfe said. "Let's get out of here before we get caught. We… Oh my goodness!"_ he exclaimed as he felt something brush against his leg. The diplomat looked down to find a big, fluffy, white cat rubbing against his calves and purring loudly. Rolfe blinked in surprise. _"Well hello, Mr. Fluff."_

He was rather taken aback by how friendly the cat was, given the apparent personality of the animal's owner. John Rolfe set the sack on the stone floor and reached down to scratch the cat behind the ears. _"What were those guards talking about? You're not fat, you're just big and fluffy,"_ Rolfe uttered as the cat started head-butting his hand affectionately. _"I'm sorry that I'm going to have to reveal your owner as a crook to the settlers. But don't you worry, I'll make sure there's someone to care for you whether Governor West is around or not,"_ Rolfe promised.

He gave the cat a few more pets and then rose to his feet, picking up the sack. _"Come, boys, let's go,"_ Rolfe said to Meeko and Flit. He waved to Mr. Fluff. _"Bye-bye, kitty cat."_

They climbed the stairs and John Rolfe made sure Mr. Fluff was out of the cellar before he closed the door and replaced the rug. Once they were back at the inn, John Rolfe sat down at his desk to write a letter to Pocahontas and the Powhatans. He gave it to Meeko and Flit and sent them off before retiring to bed and a troubled sleep. He had to think up a way to reveal the governor's scam to the Jamestown populace without getting himself shot by West's guards. Once Governor West was out of the way, he and others would be able to tally up the governor's food holdings to see if there was enough to last everyone the winter.

…

Pocahontas was woken up by Meeko and Flit at the crack of dawn. The raccoon dropped John Rolfe's letter into her lap. Though most people were still asleep, she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and got out of bed. She sat at the fire to read the letter.

 _Dear Pocahontas and the Powhatan people,_

 _Meeko, Flit, and I investigated the governor's mansion last night to discover not only the corn stolen from your village but an enormous hoard of food that might very well be enough to last everyone the winter. I plan to call a town meeting tomorrow to reveal the truth to the settlers. Wish me luck, I just might be taking a risk with my life depending upon how vengeful the governor is inclined to be. If I am successful, I will deliver the corn to your village afterwards._

 _Yours truly,_

 _John Rolfe_

Though Pocahontas was encouraged by the discovery of food, her face was lined with worry concerning the safety and well being of her paramour. She glanced at Meeko and Flit who also looked concerned. The young woman pressed the letter to her chest and closed her eyes. _"Great Spirit, please watch over him today,"_ she whispered into the crisp air.

Pocahontas got out her writing supplies and wrote a return letter to Rolfe, sending it off with Meeko. Unable to go back to sleep, she sat by the fire decorating a pair of moccasins with beads. She decided to wait for her father to awaken by himself before telling him the news.

…

John Rolfe was awakened mid-morning by Meeko scratching on the window again. This time the raccoon was not accompanied by his hummingbird friend. When Rolfe let Meeko inside, he was presented with a letter from Pocahontas. He quickly tore it open and read.

 _Dear John,_

 _Good job last night. Please be careful today! Best of luck._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Pocahontas_

John Rolfe smiled and set the letter aside. He bathed, shaved, ate breakfast, cleaned his teeth and brushed his hair before dressing himself in all the finery available to him. Today was the day. Governor West would get one last chance to see him in person and, if he refused, trouble would ensue. Rolfe stuffed all the food from the governor's mansion into his rucksack and made off in the direction of the Quincy residence. When he arrived, he was pleased to find Mr. and Mrs. Quincy as well as their daughter Rebeccah looking much better than the first time he had seen them. Though still thin, they were much less pale and sickly looking.

Rolfe revealed to them his discovery at the governor's mansion the previous night. All three of them were beyond shocked. Then he requested their support during the town meeting he intended to call later that day. He left his rucksack with the Quincys and pulled the king's order out of his pocket, tapping his open palm with the tube. "Friends, wish me luck. I'm giving the governor one more chance to meet with me. After that, I call a town meeting. I'll be back."

He bade them farewell and, with the greatest air of dignity possible, set off toward the governor's mansion. A familiar set of guards were stationed in front this time. "Gentlemen, I'm here to see the governor. I'm giving him one last chance to meet with me on a very important matter."

Both men shook their heads though only the one to the left spoke. "Sorry, sir. He says he'll have our heads if we disturb him this morning. Neither of us have the gall to bother him again after he went off on us earlier," the guard explained, again looking regretful.

Though angered, John Rolfe kept his cool. "So am I to take it that you shan't beseech him on my behalf then?" he further interrogated, attempting to confirm their unwillingness to help.

They both shook their heads. "It's nothing personal, sir," the other one added.

With an unreadable look on his face, John Rolfe bobbed his head in acknowledgement and tapped himself on the forehead with the king's order. "Right then. I'll be off. Good day."

Both men looked at John Rolfe in confusion as he turned tail and strutted off in the opposite direction. _"That was odd..."_ one uttered to the other once Rolfe had disappeared.

Rolfe headed straight back to the Quincys'. He retrieved them as well as the rucksack and lead them to the town square where he found a soldier holding a horn. Rolfe asked to borrow the horn, to which the soldier shrugged and relented. The English diplomat put the horn to his lips and blew loudly. Then he removed it and cried out, "HEAR YE, HEAR YE! COME ONE, COME ALL TO THE TOWN MEETING. I AM JOHN ROLFE AND I BEAR AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT FROM THE KING OF ENGLAND!"


	4. Christ's Mass

**The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book II**

Chapter 4: Christ's Mass

Thomas West was eating his usual lavish breakfast when he overheard the commotion outside. He leaned toward the dining room window and peeked through the blinds, observing as people filed from their homes and headed to the town square. A hundred questions popped up in his head. He rang the bell for his manservant, Francis Couper, but his maid Margaret Waters came instead. "Mr. Couper has made a run to the outhouse, sir. What can I do for you?" she asked.

West groaned in annoyance and took a big bite out of a hot pastry. "I heard horns and a commotion outside. Send the guards to see what that is about and report back to me. They better not be having a town meeting without my authorization. Whoever's responsible will have to be punished," he indicated angrily. "And I have a suspicion about who just might be responsible…"

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Waters replied, filing from the room. She went to find the two guards on duty on the portico. Both of them were far more alert than usual. They appeared to be quite curious about the goings-on though they dared not leave their posts without permission from the governor. Mrs. Waters brought them that permission. "Governor West orders you to investigate this," the older woman told them. "There is to be no town meeting without his authorization."

"Aye," both men replied, running off to the town square. When they arrived they discovered a large crowd had gathered around a familiar face standing on a makeshift platform of oversized wine barrels and planks. It was the official from London again—'John Rolfe' as he had introduced himself when trying to gain entrance to the governor's mansion.

"Children in the front, please!" Rolfe insisted, beckoning the shorter members of the crowd forward. "Make way for everyone! You, sir, please stand to the side!"

The guards drew their brows together in frustration and sighed at having to deal with the same individual yet again. One man, Michael Fenton, looked to his compatriot, John Canon. "Come on," Fenton uttered to Canon. "Let's get this over with."

Canon nodded and the two guards began to make their way through the crowd until they were standing beside the wine barrels. They looked up at John Rolfe who had yet to notice their presence. The guards exchanged glances with each other once more and then Fenton turned his attention back to Rolfe and cleared his throat. "WHAT'S ALL THIS THEN?!" he announced loudly in an authoritative tone, crossing his arms over his chest in a steely manner.

Every face in the crowd glanced fearfully at the two guards. All faces, that is, except John Rolfe's. The diplomat drew his brows together as he glared down at the two. "Gentlemen, I'm going to have to ask you to move to the back," Rolfe indicated, pointing the tube he was holding in the direction he wanted them to go. "You're blocking some of the children."

"The governor has not authorized a town meeting, Lord Rolfe!" Fenton retorted, turning his attention to the crowd. "We order you all to disperse!" he decreed, throwing his arms out in a demonstrative gesture. Again he turned to Rolfe. "I'm afraid we're going to have to take you to the constable's office, sir," Fenton told him, pointing in the direction of said office.

Canon nodded his agreement. "Do come quietly, please!"

As the guards reached up to pull him down from the barrels, John Rolfe tore back to a stunned gasp from the crowd. "Keep your hands off of me! I do not require the governor's authorization when I already have the authorization of our royal highness!" he spat back, twisting the end off of the tube he was holding. He pulled out an official-looking scroll and turned it toward the crowd, making sure everyone got an eyeful of King James's signature seal. Then he shoved it in the two guards' faces. "Now back off or you'll be liable to be punished for treason!"

Fenton gasped in surprise. "The king?!"

"That's right. I've come to present the king's order to the people of Jamestown as is my solemn sworn duty. Now please step back! Don't make me ask again," Rolfe insisted.

The guards exchanged glances again and finally did step back. John Rolfe rolled up the scroll again and pointed the end at the crowd. "You all there, I want a show of hands! Who hasn't gotten enough to eat in the last week? How many of you are hungry?"

Hesitant at first, the meek crowd raised their hands until nearly every man, woman, and child was doing it. Rolfe drew his brows together and moved the hand bearing the scroll behind his back in a thoughtful manner as he took a quick tally with his free hand. "I see. It is rather unfortunate then that I must inform all of you that you've been deceived. There is far more food in Jamestown than you think. Most of it is being hoarded in the governor's mansion cellar!" he charged, pointing the king's order sharply in the direction of Thomas West's abode. "Here is a small sample!" he announced, yanking open his rucksack. He tossed sausages, loaves of bread, and other food items into the hungry crowd. "All came from the governor's mansion, I tell you!"

Before Rolfe knew it, the crowd was in a sudden uproar. Children were grappling for the food. The diplomat had to raise his hands to calm them all down. "Please, everyone! If you please, I am not finished. Don't fight, there's far more food available than you realize! As I'm aware that you've all been trapped inside the settlement for a while on governor's orders, I'm afraid I must inform you of the reality of the conflict between the Powhatans and our humble town. There is no conflict except the one fabricated by Governor West! The Powhatans have not become hostile towards the people of Jamestown, that is a lie! If you step foot outside of the fortress, no harm will come to you as none came to me. I visited the village of Werowocomoco myself the other day and I've come to tell you all the truth!" he fervidly disclosed.

Loud whisperings began amongst the crowd as Rolfe continued, "Our governor sent a band of hostile men to attack the Powhatans but two days back. One hundred bushels of corn were stolen in the attack and hoarded within the governor's mansion. Furthermore one of the princes of the Powhatan Nation, a young warrior named Keme, was badly injured in the attack. Due to the laws laid out in this document," he exclaimed, brandishing the king's order, "it is my responsibility to bring the man responsible for that injury to justice. I believe that man is Governor West as he is the man who gave his guards the orders to attack the village in the first place," he charged.

Again the people of Jamestown gasped in shock. Fenton grabbed Canon by the arm and forced his coworker to lean toward him. _"Listen to me,"_ he whispered. _"We may not be able to silence him but we must inform the governor. At least give West a chance to defend his name."_

Canon nodded in agreement and both guards ran off, heading back to the governor's mansion. Rolfe flipped open the scroll again and read, "I, King James, do decree that any settlers residing within the township of Jamestown who are responsible for hostilities against our friends, the Powhatans, are to be sent back to England on first available ship for royal judgment and punishment!" Again he rolled up the scroll. "This order gives the people of Jamestown, all of you, legal authority to depose the current governor for crimes against our allies. Not only have you the authority to do so but I would charge you with a responsibility as well!"

"ARREST HIM!" charged an angry voice coming from the back of the crowd. Everybody turned to find none other than Thomas West himself pointing at John Rolfe. The hefty governor was decked out in all his usual finery. After getting dressed, he had come to check the ruckus out for himself. He was a few inches shorter than Rolfe but with a wardrobe to rival the diplomat's finest London attire. The governor had graying brown hair and a chiseled beard and mustache that vaguely resembled Ratcliffe's. Thomas West's protruding belly bounced as he stomped forward with a furious expression, violently shoving his way through an astonished crowd as he pointed a fat finger to Rolfe. The settlers nearest him quickly retreated. "ARREST HIM, I SAY!"

On each side of the governor stood five of his personal guards, ten in total. The men all looked confused at the governor's order to arrest the London official. "But he's got a legal document with the king's seal, governor!" one of the guards protested. "We can't just arrest him!"

West turned a flaring gaze to the objecting guard. "Capper, you're fired!"

"Not to worry, Capper," John Rolfe countered. "You'll be rehired again soon enough." The diplomat pointed the king's order at the governor. "Look who's finally emerged from his cave after refusing to meet with me _repeatedly_. Governor West, I charge you to step down! By ordering an attack on the Powhatans, you have broken law and must rightfully be deposed."

Thomas West's nostrils flared in response to John Rolfe's accusation. He was not about to go down without a fight. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a long sleek pistol and pointed it at the diplomat. "He's got a gun!" someone cried. The crowd squealed and hit the dirt to avoid being shot. John Rolfe yelped and stumbled back slightly as West pulled the trigger.

"AAAAAHHHH!" West cried out as some unidentified animal sank its fangs into his fat calf, throwing off his aim. The bullet exploded against one of the wine barrels that Rolfe was standing on, causing the diplomat to lose his balance and tumble down to the dirt. Meanwhile the children cowering on the ground nearby got soaked with spilled red wine.

Thomas West turned the gun on the mischievous raccoon and tried to shoot Meeko but his former guard Capper grabbed hold of the gun. "Get the gun! Arrest him for attempted murder!" the man cried. The remaining nine guards finally came to a collective decision and they dog-piled on West, weighing him down to the ground as Capper tore the pistol out of his grip. "Lock him up in the constable's office!" Capper charged, backing up from the scene.

Capper turned and ran to the front of the crowd where he found John Rolfe crumpled on the ground. His fine clothes were soaked with red wine which made it look like he had been shot at first glance. Capper gasped in horror. The crowd was still in an uproar as West was dragged off, parents seeking out their children to ensure they had not been shot or injured. Rolfe groaned and pushed himself up from the ground. Capper helped him back to his feet. "Are you alright, sir?"

John Rolfe almost chuckled. "I'm alive and unhurt but I do think I'll need a change of clothes."

…

Just hours later, Pocahontas had wrapped up the tale of her travels at a second village meeting in the communal longhouse when the sound of jingling bells from outside claimed everyone's attention. Fortunately the weather was mild so everyone rushed out of the longhouse to investigate the source of the noise. Pocahontas and Nakoma followed Chief Powhatan outside along with the crowd. Pocahontas caught sight of John Rolfe riding on the back of an enormous black horse. The animal was pulling a big, red sleigh behind that was piled high with covered items. The warriors were in an instant uproar because apparently it was the same horse and sleigh that had been used to steal corn during the attack. The Englishman raised his hands to calm everyone down but his attempts were ineffective. Chief Powhatan made his way to the horse's side and quieted the crowd as the Englishman slid down off the horse into the snow.

"Chief Powhatan!" John Rolfe called out as soon as he caught sight of the Algonquin leader. "The governor has been deposed. The king's order is now in effect in Jamestown."

"John!" Pocahontas cried, running over to him. She ran past her father and nearly bowled the diplomat over with a hug, entirely forgetting herself in the face of the crowd.

John Rolfe yelped in surprise and tried to squirm away, realizing that the entire tribe was watching. He nearly lost the red hat on his head to a gust of wind. "Pocahontas, wait! I can't breathe!" Rolfe wheezed. When Pocahontas let Rolfe go, he lost his balance and fell into a pile of snow behind him. The chief knelt down and offered him a hand. When Rolfe accepted, he was yanked upright again. "Th-thank you, sir," he uttered, turning around to recover his hat.

Rolfe faced the crowd. Just then the tribe's greatest warrior Naganwaya came through and stood some paces before him, seemingly sizing him up. The crowd froze as did the Englishman. Naganwaya did not appear impressed with the diplomat's appearance. He looked to Pocahontas and pointed to Rolfe. "This is not the white man your tale spoke of, is it?"

Pocahontas smiled in delight. "Actually, it is!" She gave Rolfe a proud look and faced the crowd. "Cheskchamay, I want you all to meet John Rolfe. This is the man I survived the pirate attack with," she spoke in Powhatan, beckoning the Englishman to step forward. Rolfe just looked confused, not knowing what was being said, but he understood Pocahontas's body language well enough. He approached her and met eyes with the crowd, removing his hat out of courtesy.

Naganwaya boldly walked up to John Rolfe until their noses were barely an inch apart. Rolfe yelped. Both men were about the same height. The warrior examined the Englishman closely. Rolfe's eyes dilated like those of a prey animal at the invasion of his personal space. _"Oh… um… Wingapo?"_ he uttered to the warrior, squeezing his hat to his chest out of discomfort.

Naganwaya raised a brow in response to the timid behavior and snorted. He began to encircle John Rolfe to get a better look at him. When he was finished, he walked over to Pocahontas to present his verdict. "He does not look very strong," Naganwaya announced. Pocahontas drew her brows together, glaring at the warrior in irritation. The brave did not seem to notice as he turned his attention to the chief. "Great Powhatan, we must ask him about the corn."

Chief Powhatan nodded in agreement and turned his attention to John Rolfe. "Have you brought us the corn that was stolen?" he inquired in English, flashing a glance at the sleigh.

John Rolfe gathered his wits once he was no longer under scrutiny and returned a smile. "Yes, sir," he replied, plodding over to the red sleigh. He untied some ropes and then yanked off the cover, revealing many baskets of corn lying on top of several wooden crates.

The chief examined it. "That is not all of it," he returned.

Rolfe put his hat back on. "I know, sir. I'm afraid with the ammunition you ordered, I had too much to carry. I'll have to return on a second trip to bring the rest."

"Ammunition?" Chief Powhatan noted, examining the crates.

"Yes. You wanted musket balls to practice shooting, did you not?" Rolfe clarified, picking up a big basket of corn. He handed it to a woman in the crowd standing not far from him. She looked at it in surprise but quickly accepted it. "Let's get this corn unloaded so I can show you all the ammunition I brought," he said. Powhatan nodded and ordered the villagers to return all the corn to the storehouse. John Rolfe cranked open a crate of musket balls and showed them to the chief. "These are what you load the muskets with," he explained.

"Yes," Powhatan returned. "They look just like the one that Kekata extracted from my son's leg," he replied, taking one in his hand and examining it. He put the ball back onto the pile and ordered the warriors to move all the ammunition crates into another storehouse. They were too heavy for the women to carry so the warriors had to do it. "I will call upon you when I am ready for the warriors to learn to use the fire sticks. There are other orders of business that we must get out of the way first such as the signing of a new peace treaty. Is it now safe for my people to enter Jamestown? We must deal with the peace treaty before the weather gets bad again and it will very soon. This is going to be a very harsh winter. I hope the settlers understand that."

John Rolfe looked thoughtful. "Yes, it is safe. Come to Jamestown with me now and we'll talk peace. The fort should be open and no firearms will be pointed at you. I've made sure of that. We can also get the rest of the corn while we're there," Rolfe confirmed.

"Father, can I come to Jamestown with you?" Pocahontas interjected. "I want to see my friends."

"The Quincys are doing much better, Pocahontas," John Rolfe informed her. "They've told me they can't wait to see you again. You'll be welcome anytime." He glanced up at the sky. It was cloudy but there was no snow. Still it was fairly cold. "If we go now, we should be able to make it back before any foul weather has a chance at starting."

…

When Pocahontas, John Rolfe, Chief Powhatan, and the Powhatan elders arrived in Jamestown, Pocahontas immediately ran off to see to the Quincy family. The men congregated in the former governor's mansion to discuss the peace treaty. A few hours later, they were almost through with their negotiations when Pocahontas and the Quincy women showed up. Rolfe was busy reading off a document to everyone present. "The final edict concerns mutual military defense. That means that if the Powhatans are under attack and in need of assistance, they have the right to call upon Jamestown for support in the expulsion of their enemies from the land. Likewise if Jamestown is attacked—by a Spanish warship, for instance—the new governor will have the right to request military assistance from the Powhatan Nation if such assistance is needed."

John Rolfe stopped reading when the delicious scent of blackberry pie permeated the room. All the men stopped what they were doing and turned their attentions to Pocahontas and the Quincy girls. Emma Quincy, carrying the baked goods, smiled timidly back at the men. "Don't let us interrupt, Father," Pocahontas said. "Mrs. Quincy made a pie for Keme and I thought we should bring it over so we don't forget it here when we leave."

"It smells delicious," Powhatan remarked, making Mrs. Quincy blush.

John Rolfe smiled. "Lucky Keme! Why don't you all come in and leave the pie on the table over there?" he proposed, pointing to a side table nestled along the wall. It was right next to the exit. "I'm sure you'll see it before you leave for Werowocomoco."

Emma Quincy did as John Rolfe said. Meanwhile Pocahontas took a seat at the large dining table by her father. "We preliminarily agree to all the terms," Powhatan said to Rolfe, getting back to the subject at hand. "However before I can sign the peace treaty, I will need to run things by the chieftains of a few other villages in our nation. We will need a week or two."

There were three other Jamestown officials present aside from John Rolfe. All of them looked hesitant though Rolfe himself did not seem to mind. "That is no trouble at all. I'll have you written up a copy straightaway. When you're ready to sign, come right back to Jamestown. Our doors will always be open to you from now on," Rolfe spoke. "Myself and the other officials have decided to declare this house a public town hall going forward. It will be open most of the time and the signed peace treaty, as well as the king's order, will remain here on public display."

"Very well," Powhatan declared as he rose to his feet. The other Powhatan elders and Pocahontas followed suit. "Our business for the day is concluded then."

John Rolfe sent one of the men off into another room to copy the terms of the peace treaty. "Just give him about twenty minutes. Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I must go speak to Bill Bates about divvying up all the food supplies. We're trying to see if we can afford to put together a modest Christmas feast for the settlers in a few days or if rations will be too strict."

Once Chief Powhatan received the copy of the peace treaty, he and the elders left with the remaining corn and the pie for Keme. Powhatan promised to return the borrowed horse and sleigh when he returned to pick Pocahontas up who wanted some time to catch up with her friends. As soon as they were gone, Pocahontas approached John Rolfe at the storehouse as he was helping Bill Bates calculate what the new rations should be for the settlers.

"That should be enough to last until the next ship arrives at least," John Rolfe advocated. "But it might not be a bad idea to take precautions since the last ship never came."

"John," Pocahontas interrupted, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

John Rolfe spun around to find Pocahontas looking at him with a hopeful gaze. "What is it, Pocahontas? Oh! Before I forget… we've decided to hold a Christmas celebration in the new town hall on Christmas Day. I'm afraid the feast is only going to be a modest one but there will be carols and dancing and even some storytelling. Would you like to come? I would've invited more of your people but I'm afraid we wouldn't be able to feed them all."

"Yes, I'd love to come!" Pocahontas replied. She paused. "Can I speak with you in private?"

John Rolfe blinked in surprise. "Yes, of course." He turned his attention to Bates. "I'll be back. Keep up the good work, chap," he said, taking his leave. He lead Pocahontas back to the new town hall which was empty as the other officials had returned to their respective homes. The moment they walked past the door threshold, Pocahontas threw her arms around Rolfe's neck and kissed him. The Englishman chuckled when she drew back. "Oh, is that what this was all about?" he inquired teasingly, wrapping his arms around her slim waist.

"I missed you!" Pocahontas exclaimed. "I was so worried when you were trapped in Jamestown. Where is the former governor now?" she asked, glancing around the mansion.

John Rolfe drew his brows together and placed his hands on his hips, looking quite cross. "In jail, of course, and that is where he will remain until the next ship arrives to take him back to England. His menu has just gone from lavish gourmet meals to a moldy crust of bread every now and again and there's nothing he can do about it," he spoke sternly.

"I can't believe how selfish he was!" Pocahontas cried. "To hoard food while children starved."

John Rolfe snorted and swung Pocahontas around playfully. "Welcome to English hierarchy. Not exactly the ideals that I myself prefer to live by." Pocahontas laughed just as Mr. Fluff jumped up onto a nearby table with a pronounced meow to get their attentions. Pocahontas yelped in surprise at first. "Hello again, Mr. Fluff," Rolfe greeted, shooting a glance at Pocahontas. "That's the former governor's cat. I suppose Mr. Fluff was taking a nap earlier when your father was here. I've pledged to find someone new to take care of him now that West is in jail," he mused, reaching over to scratch Mr. Fluff behind the ears. The cat licked his fingers and head-butted his hand, purring loudly. "He's just so friendly, I can't imagine many would refuse."

"How about we ask the Quincys?" Pocahontas proposed. "Rebeccah loves animals!"

John Rolfe scratched his chin. "Perhaps. But Bill Bates told me earlier he wished he had a cat. There's a small mouse infestation in the storehouse that needs to be dealt with. I think we should let him use Mr. Fluff temporarily for that purpose at least. It's what cats are for, after all."

"Ah. Good point," Pocahontas returned.

John Rolfe released Pocahontas and turned his attention fully to Mr. Fluff, holding his arms out. "May I pick you up, Mr. Fluff? There's a fellow a few houses down who needs your assistance," Rolfe beseeched in a diplomatic tone. Mr. Fluff did not seem to protest so Rolfe scooped him up off the table. The cat relaxed in Rolfe's grasp. "Good boy. Come, Pocahontas, let's take him to see Mr. Bates. I'm not sure how good a ratter Mr. Fluff is but we've got to give him a chance to prove himself. If not, he can go straight to the Quincy family next."

Pocahontas held the door open for John Rolfe and then followed him outside. Bill Bates was rearranging the new supplies when they arrived. Rolfe knocked once on the open door to get the man's attention. Bates turned around and spotted the cat. "Is that for me?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, say hello to Mr. Fluff," John Rolfe replied. "But you've got to treat him nicely, Mr. Bates. He's a very friendly cat and he requires lots of attention. If he doesn't turn out to be a good mouser, just let me know and I'll transfer him to another household." Mr. Fluff hopped down from Rolfe's arms and ambled over to Bill Bates. The overseer reached down to let the cat sniff his hand which Mr. Fluff did without hesitation. Then he head-butted the hand.

"Ah, I see what you mean about him being friendly," Bates replied, scratching the cat behind the ears. "I thank you for this, Lord Rolfe. I'll do my best to tend to all his needs. It's too bad there aren't more cats in Jamestown. Would really help with the rat problem."

John Rolfe scratched his chin in thought. "So Mr. Fluff is the only cat in Jamestown?"

"I'm not sure," Bates returned. "I haven't seen any others as I can recall. Anyhow, Lord Rolfe, while you were away I started to set aside some ingredients that could go to the Christmas feast you ordered over in that yonder corner," he pointed out. John Rolfe glanced over to said corner of the storehouse to find two large bags of flour and some other items. "I'm sure my wife would be glad to volunteer to cook up some dishes. If you can just get a few other women to volunteer as cooks, that would be great. Are you the one to be organizing this party?"

John Rolfe nodded. "I suppose so. I don't mind being the organizer. I've got some good ideas to entertain the crowd. Did you know there's a beautiful harp in the new town hall? I ought to get some practice in before Christmas. Ooh, yes, I can see it all now. I best get to planning!"

"That's the spirit!" Bates lauded, clapping Rolfe on the back.

"Can I bring a dish?" Pocahontas offered. "I like to cook too. I could make boiled yams or sweet squash stuffed with toasted nuts and maple syrup."

John Rolfe looked hungry. "That sounds delicious. Of course, you can bring whatever you'd like, Pocahontas," he replied and then laughed. "I didn't know you were so fond of cooking."

Pocahontas shrugged. "It's an interest that comes and goes for me."

Rolfe smiled. "Well it's good. I want to make sure there's at least enough food such that no one goes home hungry afterwards. Of course normally everyone likes to stuff themselves in winter but we're going to have to be a bit conservative this year. I thought it'd be a good idea to get someone to man the feast tables and make sure that some people don't make pigs of themselves and rob others of the chance to try the dishes. I find a good rule of thumb is to only take one of something and no seconds until everyone's at least had an opportunity to try it."

"That sounds like a good idea if there's only a limited amount of food," Pocahontas replied.

John Rolfe appeared to have a revelation as his eyes widened momentarily. "Oh! Pocahontas, after the Christmas party I was wondering if you could spend some time with me to re-record those Powhatan folk tales I had to throw out when the pirates attacked our ship. Assuming the weather is good enough for one or both of us to make the journey to the other's home, of course. I wouldn't want to put you in any danger from the winter weather."

"Once the weather gets bad, my father usually prefers for me to stay close to home."

"In that case, I'll be the one to take the risk and go to Werowocomoco," Rolfe proposed.

Pocahontas had a thoughtful look. She knew the weather was going to get very bad very soon and it would likely mean that she would not be able to visit Jamestown for weeks or even up to a month or more. She sincerely did not want to be separated from John Rolfe for that long. An idea suddenly occurred to her. "Or I could ask Father if I could stay with the Quincys in Jamestown for part of the winter! Then there would be no risk to either of us. It worries me slightly because you don't know the land like I do. If you got caught in a storm…"

Rolfe chuckled. "You're right, I'd probably perish. Well I do hope your father will let you. We could spend the days in the town hall. I'd work on my archives while you work on whatever crafts you'd brought with you. You do a lot of sewing in the winter months, do you not?"

"Yes," Pocahontas returned. "And beading and basket-making and… well, all kinds of things. I'll ask Father when he comes to pick me up. Then I'll go get my things and come back. I'll bring the ingredients for the dish I want to make for the Christmas party too."

"Come, let's go ask the Quincys if you can stay with them. They might need an extra bed and I'm sure we can spare one from the town hall if necessary," Rolfe said.

…

Powhatan returned in just over an hour with a few of his warriors. John Rolfe was busy in the town hall party-planning with Pocahontas when he arrived. The chief knocked on the door and was met by Francis Cooper, the man who had recently lost his job as Thomas West's personal manservant. As Cooper was unemployed, Rolfe had given him a temporary job in looking after the town hall. Rather than a private servant, Cooper would be a public servant to all of Jamestown and he did not seem to mind. The thin blond man came to the door to meet the chief. He swept himself aside and gestured for the Powhatans to enter in a very butler-like manner. "Do come in, sir. Lord Rolfe and Princess Pocahontas are in the drawing room."

Men were shuffling about and going through the ex-governor's former belongings to see what could be of use to the people of Jamestown. They tried to stay out of the way of Chief Powhatan and his men. "Right this way, sirs," Cooper directed the Powhatans. He entered the drawing room first and held the door open for the natives. "Lord Rolfe, the Powhatans have returned."

John Rolfe and Pocahontas had been grueling over a to-do list for the party when the latter's father returned. "We have taken the horse and sleigh back to the stable. Come, Pocahontas, it is time we returned home," Powhatan bade his daughter.

John Rolfe exchanged glances with Pocahontas, wondering if she was going to ask her father permission to stay in Jamestown right there. She pursed her lips and stood up, beckoning her father out of the room and leaving the others behind. "Okay, Father. I need to speak with you about something in private," Rolfe heard her utter as they walked out into the hall.

The diplomat and house servant waited awkwardly with the warriors. There were three of them and the one Rolfe recognized from the village, Naganwaya, appeared to be their second-in-command. The awkward silence made the two whites a little uncomfortable. Rolfe exchanged glances with Cooper and cleared his throat. "I don't suppose we could offer you gentlemen a cup of tea?" the diplomat inquired with a nervous grin, addressing the warriors. Francis Cooper appeared ready to hop right to the kitchen should any of them respond affirmatively.

The warriors looked at each with confusion like they had no idea what Rolfe was talking about. Naganwaya, the only English speaker among them, addressed Rolfe. "What is cup of tea?"

John Rolfe blinked. "Oh, it's a hot beverage. Good for the winter cold."

Naganwaya said something to the others in Powhatan and turned back to shake his head. "We are not cold," he replied, an ever-stoic look about his face.

John Rolfe laced his fingers together and smiled. "Oh good."

The awkward silence ensued until Pocahontas and Chief Powhatan returned a few minutes later. "John, Father says I can stay for a few weeks as long as I don't leave the settlement alone."

Rolfe perked up. "Oh? Excellent!"

Pocahontas smiled. "Yes, I'll go get my things from home."

"On another note," Chief Powhatan spoke up, "I have sent warriors to bring Namontack back to Werowocomoco for treatment. Kekata will need the medicinal tools you provided again."

John Rolfe nodded. "Mr. Cooper!" he announced, getting the servant's attention. "Please escort Chief Powhatan to the doctor's office and get him the tools he needs. Do let the doctor know he has no choice in the matter. This is an official order from the new town hall."

"Yes, sir!" Cooper returned. He turned to Chief Powhatan. "This way, sir."

Once the medical bag was back in Powhatan's possession, he and the other Powhatans left for Werowocomoco again. Pocahontas went with them to get her things.

…

Pocahontas returned in an hour and a half, escorted by the warrior Naganwaya on a dogsled. "I do not understand why you want to spend the winter in Jamestown, Pocahontas," the warrior protested as he helped her bring her belongings into the Quincy home. Samuel Quincy was helping them unload as well. "You aren't thinking about moving away from our people's lands permanently, are you? Is this about what Chogan said last winter? Just so you know, he is ashamed of his words. After all you've done for us, he has much more respect for you now. Nobody would dare accuse you of speaking with the tongue of a paleface these days. And quite honestly, I think you belong with us and not with them. You are one of us."

Pocahontas flashed Naganwaya a reassuring smile. "No worries. This is just an extended visit so I can help a friend with something. I will be back to stay in the early spring at the very latest."

Naganwaya looked curious. "Who is the friend and what are you helping her with?"

"Him," Pocahontas corrected.

"Hm?"

She flashed a glance toward the town hall. "I'm helping John Rolfe with something. When we were on the ship heading back to this land, he started something called an 'archive.' He must record large amounts of information on paper through writing. It is a duty charged to him by King James, the pale chief. Right now, he is recording the legends of our people."

Naganwaya raised a brow as if the very concept eluded him. "Why on earth would the pale chief want him to do that? What are they going to do with our legends?"

"Probably publish them," Pocahontas replied. "And the reason they're doing it is, in John Rolfe's own words, for 'the noble pursuit of knowledge.' English people like sharing stories as much as any other group of people," she explained as if it was a no-brainer.

The warrior looked confused and suspicious if not outright offended. "But why do they need _our_ stories? Why don't they just share their own stories amongst themselves?"

"They do share their own stories. But what is wrong with having an interest in the legends of other cultures? You make it sound like they are stealing from us, Naganwaya," she chided.

Naganwaya almost huffed at that. "I don't know. It just seems strange to me."

Pocahontas patted his shoulder, almost startling him at the sudden contact. "Don't worry your head over it. Come, let's get these pumpkins inside," she said, lifting up one of the heavy gourds from the dogsled. The pups seemed restless in their harnesses, almost snapping at one another.

Samuel came back out from inside and offered his arms for the pumpkin. "Let me take that. I'll put it in the kitchen for you, Pocahontas," he said as she handed it over.

They finished unpacking everything just as the men from the town hall arrived with the disjointed pieces of a twin bed frame for Pocahontas. The Powhatan woman turned her attention back to Naganwaya. "Say farewell to my father for me. And tell him not to worry, I will not leave the settlement without him or a warrior escort. Besides I think we'll be snowed in soon."

The warrior nodded hesitantly. "I will tell him for you. Have a nice winter, Pocahontas. We will send warriors to check on you every now and again when the weather is bearable," he said, mounting the back of the dogsled. He took the reins and snapped them. "Ana, Pocahontas!"

"Ana, Naganwaya!" Pocahontas called after him as he rode off through the snow.

Rebeccah's voice rang out from an open window. "Come in, Pocahontas! Mum has an idea to make two dozen pumpkin pies for the Christmas party!"

"Coming!" Pocahontas called back, rushing back inside the warm cottage.

…

Some days later, it was finally Christmas Eve. With the help of Pocahontas, the Quincys, and a few other families, John Rolfe had managed to get all the party-related affairs in order. He had everything planned for Christmas from top to bottom. The town hall was decked out with holly, mistletoe, silver bells, and a seven-foot evergreen Christmas tree that the men had procured from the forest just up the hill. Earlier that morning, he had called everyone in Jamestown together for another town meeting during which he announced the planned festivities for the following day.

To say the settlers were thrilled would be to put things mildly. The children took to dancing in the snow at the revelation that there would be a Christmas after all. Rolfe had discovered a treasure trove of toys belonging to the self-indulgent ex-governor in the town hall master suite and he did not intend to let them go to waste. He instructed that any children wanting Christmas goodies should bring a stocking to hang up by the oversized fireplace in the town hall drawing room by Christmas morning at the latest. All the children brought their stockings that evening.

The party was scheduled to begin at four o'clock on Christmas Day and go until well after dark. A band of men with rifles were sent on a hunting trip to procure fresh meat for the party. They came back with three turkeys by nightfall Christmas Eve. Fortunately they made it back just as a heavy snowfall began. John Rolfe had gathered a group of children from the church choir together to sing the carols for everyone. They spent several hours rehearsing their songs on Christmas Eve in the town hall. A group of ten women took over the ex-governor's former gourmet kitchen to cook up dozens of dishes for the festivities the following day.

When the time for the party came around, hundreds of settlers had gathered outside the doors to the town hall. Most were dressed up in their Sunday best for the occasion. Francis Cooper stood on the portico ringing silver bells in each hand. When it was time for him to open the doors to the public, the partygoers were all greeted just inside by the children's choir on the left who all sang their Christmas hymns in miraculous harmony with John Rolfe's harp accompaniment. A nativity scene built of carved wooden figurines stood to the right as the people entered the hall. Pocahontas sat behind Rolfe who occupied the harp to the left of the children's choir, watching as the townspeople entered. It was a beautiful scene and everyone seemed highly appreciative of the event. The Powhatan woman turned and ran back to the kitchen to check on how the women were doing who were involved in cooking the feast for the settlers.

By the time Pocahontas returned, the carols had been concluded and everyone had gathered in the largest room in the building—the drawing room. Wine was being served to the adults and goat's milk and water to the children. Hot spiced tea was made available for everyone. The room was packed as John Rolfe stood up on a small platform beside the Christmas tree. He tapped a small metal implement against his glass of red wine which gradually got everyone's attention. "Hello, hello!" he announced as they all turned towards him. "Merry Christmas to you all!"

The room returned his holiday greeting gaily. He continued, "Now, everybody, here's how things are going to work this evening. The children are not to peek into their stockings until after most of the festivities." He gestured to the fireplace which was lined with nearly sixty stockings stuffed to the brim. "As you all can see, St. Nicholas dropped us a visit last night. The only reason I'm asking you to wait is because the town hall is awfully crowded and I wouldn't want any child to lose his or her new toys to the crowd. I don't want to see any of you touch those stockings until I give the go-ahead, understand?" he charged in a stern but light-hearted voice.

The children all nodded their heads. "Yes, Lord Rolfe," they spoke in unison.

"Very good then. Now that the carols have been sung, it's time for things to get a bit more lively! John Hart, my good man, where are you?" John Rolfe charged, glancing around.

A lanky gray-haired older gentleman with a thick beard and violin held up his bow. "Right here!"

John Rolfe beckoned him to step forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, please make some room in the middle of the floor. Those who wish to dance the quadrilles, please step forward. We need an even number of men and women. Every gentleman must choose himself a lady. Come along now. Ah, good. I thank you all. Now there's only enough room for eight couples so I beseech you all to take turns. Yes, children are allowed to dance but they must have a partner as well. Age isn't an issue. Thank you. You there, sir, please step forward. I…"

Everyone was in good humor as they got in position for the traditional folk dances but some were hungrier than others. "The dancing's all well and good but when's the feast?!" demanded a finicky voice from the crowd. Everyone turned to Gregory Hiffler. He was a middle-aged man who worked in construction and he was rather known for his enormous appetite. Whispers of amusement and laughter were heard around the room in response to the sudden inquiry.

John Rolfe was taken by surprise. "The feast? Oh yes, the feast! We've got lots of lovely ladies hard at work in the kitchen for us. The feast will be served in just over an hour in the dining hall which is presently closed off to us as it is being prepared. Until then Mr. Cooper and the other attendants will be serving some hors d'oeuvres to those who aren't on the dance floor. Now I must warn you, ladies and gentlemen, due to the food shortage the feast is going to be somewhat modest this year. That is why we have a new rule. You only take one of something until everyone else who wants to try it has had a chance. Only then will seconds be permitted. We'll have a few servers attending the tables to ensure that people don't get greedy. Remember, we're all here to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior. That means following his righteous example. Sharing is caring, my friends," Rolfe announced, receiving a few small groans of protest.

"Yes, I know we all love stuffing ourselves during the holidays but this year is going to be a bit different," Rolfe chided, placing his hands on his hips. "Food is not as plentiful as it normally is so we're just going to have to conserve. That is the way of it. Count your blessings, folks. Now once the feast is ready, we will all say Grace together and then file into the dining hall in an orderly manner to retrieve our meals. Until then, we dance! Mr. Hart, please take things away!"

With that, the fiddle music started. The couples who were lined up to dance launched themselves into spirited quadrilles as others watched, drank wine, and conversed nearby. Some men, women, and children clapped along to the beat. Once the first round was done, new couples came onto the floor and replaced the previous ones. The next dance was to a faster beat and evoked a lot of amused laughter and hooting from the crowd. Pocahontas enjoyed watching the couples dance. She had always enjoyed English folk dances more than the priggish subdued moves of the upper classes that Rolfe had taught her for the Hunt Ball. They were so much more lively.

It was the Quincy family who had previously taught her the folk dances. The moves were simple and easy to learn. She began to wonder if John Rolfe would ask her to dance. Fortunately she did not have to wonder for long. After the first five rounds, everyone had gotten a turn and some of the previous dancers returned to the dance floor for more. "Pocahontas, would you like to catch a dance before it's time for the feast?" Rolfe asked her quite suddenly as she was distracted watching two children dance, a ten-year-old boy with a slightly taller girl.

"Yes!" Pocahontas replied, taking his offered hand. A new set of couples took their positions now. Pocahontas and John Rolfe were among them. The beat was fast. Much faster than anything she had danced with Rolfe before. They were twirling, gypsying, basketing, dipping, and chassaying before she knew it. "Where did you learn this kind of dance?" she asked Rolfe.

John Rolfe shook his head. "Just now. I watched how it was done. I'm a good visual learner."

Pocahontas's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes, folk dance is not something I was taught as a child. Only the dances of the elite," he admitted as they twirled around together. Before long, the song was over. John Rolfe clapped loudly to get everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, the quadrilles are over. It's time for freestyle," he announced, his words punctuated with a brand new tempo from the musician.

Couples got closer, clasped hands, and started hopping around to the rhythm of the music. John Rolfe took Pocahontas by the hand again. "John, I don't know this one."

"Neither do I. You make it up as you go," Rolfe told her, leading her on a fast pace waltz around the room. They had to be careful not to bump into other couples as they went. Minutes passed as they frolicked away, losing themselves in each other's arms. Some of the couples broke up and saw men and women dancing solo. Pocahontas caught a glance of one woman holding onto her long skirt with her arms akimbo as she performed a vigorous tap dance with her feet.

When the second freestyle song ended, John Rolfe had planned to stick around to dance the next one with Pocahontas but Mrs. Breckinridge from the inn interjected. "Lord Rolfe, there's some ladies in another room I'm dying to introduce to you. One of them is very young and shy and no one has asked her to dance yet," the older woman spoke just before the next song could start and drown out her voice. She turned her attention to Pocahontas. "You don't mind if I borrow him for a bit, do you, miss?" Mrs. Breckinridge inquired hopefully, grabbing Rolfe by the hand.

Pocahontas shook her head, a bit out of breath. She needed a break anyway. "I need a drink."

"Come with me, Pocahontas," Rolfe offered. "We'll meet new people and then get a drink together. I'm parched too!" he readily admitted, taking her hand with his free one.

"Alright."

Mrs. Breckinridge lead them through the dancing crowd and out of the room. John Rolfe had become extremely popular in Jamestown overnight. Lots of people greeted him enthusiastically as he passed by. He gave them all a polite wave and the usual "Merry Christmas." A pair of blond women stood by the staircase to the upper floor. One looked older than the other like they could be mother and daughter. The young one was thin but very pretty in the face. Pocahontas noticed that she looked terribly nervous though as she wrung her hands. Her mother had a hand placed on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. The mother was the first to notice their approach. She snapped on a smile and turned her daughter to face John Rolfe. The girl blushed like her face was on fire. "Mrs. Spurling," spoke Mrs. Breckinridge with a warm smile. "I'd like to introduce you to Lord John Rolfe from London. Lord Rolfe? This is Mrs. Esther Spurling. She is the local gunsmith's wife, Mr. Kellam Spurling. He's very talented at what he does. I don't know if you've met him. Unfortunately he was unable to attend as he is sick in bed this evening."

John Rolfe frowned as he extended a hand in welcome to Mrs. Spurling. "That's awful, madam. I'm so sorry your husband was unable to attend," he greeted, gently shaking her hand. Normally he would have kissed it but he had a passing image in his head of another man kissing Pocahontas's hand in front of him and he did not like it. He did not seem to mind the thought of other men dancing with her. That was expected socially. Not wanting to risk making Pocahontas jealous, he decided to keep things as conservative as possible. "I'll be sure to tell the guards at the serving tables to let you grab some extra food to bring home to your husband."

"Thank you, Lord Rolfe. You are a wonderfully generous man! Have you heard what some of the people are saying about you? They're calling you the savior of Jamestown," she lauded.

John Rolfe's face went red. "What? Oh my… No, madam. I'm flattered but the fact is we've only one Lord and Savior and his name is Jesus Christ. I do not wish to be put on a pedestal. Besides, I could not have accomplished any of it without the help of Pocahontas," he replied, gesturing to his lady accomplice. Pocahontas smiled at Mrs. Spurling.

Mrs. Breckinridge chuckled. "Well, that's who I am to introduce next. Mrs. Spurling, I'd like to introduce you to Princess Pocahontas. She is the closest daughter of Chief Powhatan."

"Oh, I know!" Mrs. Spurling replied, readily shaking hands with Pocahontas. "My dear, I've heard much about you. I'm only saddened that we hadn't the opportunity to meet sooner. It is my understanding that you have done so much for our small settlement. The Quincy family told my husband all about it a couple winters ago," she explained, placing a second warm hand on top of Pocahontas's as they shook. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet you as well."

"And you," Pocahontas replied.

Mrs. Breckinridge looked excited as she moved over to the young blond's side, the same one who was blushing terribly. The girl was standing back from Rolfe almost as if she was afraid of him. The bright red on her cheeks contrasted sharply against her alabaster skin and extended to her ears. Pocahontas could not remember ever being so shy herself. "This young lady here is Mrs. Spurling's sixteen-year-old daughter, Yvette Spurling. Yvette, my dear, I'd like to introduce you to Lord John Rolfe." She laughed and gazed at Rolfe. "Trust me, she's heard all about you."

The girl's blush deepened as Rolfe offered a handshake. "Merry Christmas and pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle. It is my understanding that you have not danced yet. Do you know how?" Rolfe asked as she timidly extended her hand. Her grip was a bit stronger than he was expecting.

"Y-yes, sir," Yvette murmured, smiling bashfully. "Mum taught me."

"Yvette, my dear, do speak up. It's hard to hear over the music," her mother gently chided.

Yvette cleared her throat. "Yes, sir. I do know how to dance."

John Rolfe returned a smile of delight and clapped his hands together. "Excellent! I'll tell you ladies what. Pocahontas and I are terribly thirsty. If you don't mind, young miss, I'd like to meet you on the dance floor after we've gotten ourselves a drink. Say the song after next?"

"I would like that," Yvette replied, containing a hint of excitement.

"Yvette, my dear, I suppose if your mother hasn't met Pocahontas then you have not either," Mrs. Breckinridge interjected. "Yvette, Pocahontas. Pocahontas, Yvette Spurling."

Yvette's blush seemed to wane and she smiled happily at Pocahontas, apparently finding women less intimidating. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Pocahontas. Thank you for bringing us food before. My friends all say we owe you our lives for that," she said, shaking Pocahontas's hand.

Pocahontas smiled. "I was glad to help."

"Well," Mrs. Breckinridge announced. "You've all been introduced. Have a lovely rest of the evening. I best be off as I have a few more introductions to make." She gave everyone a warm handshake and then scurried off to go about her self-appointed duties.

John Rolfe gently patted Pocahontas's shoulder. "I'll go get the drinks. Do you want wine, water, or tea, Pocahontas?" Rolfe inquired. "I'm afraid the milk's all gone." He turned and noticed the Spurling women had no drinks either. "What about you two? Anything to drink?" he inquired.

"No, sir, we're not thirsty," Mrs. Spurling returned, flattered by the offer.

Yvette smiled and flushed. "Thank you for the offer, Lord Rolfe."

"I'll have water," Pocahontas chimed.

John Rolfe nodded. "Right then. I'll be back. As for you, my dear," he spoke to the young blond, "I'll meet you on the dance floor soon enough." He tipped his hat and walked off.

Pocahontas was momentarily distracted by a loud cheerful conversation between two jolly drunken men. When she turned her attention back to the blonds, a few unrelated girls had rushed in and were interrogating the blushing Yvette about the encounter she had just had. Even her mother was raving about it. "My dear, can you believe it? I never thought this settlement would see the day. A good, noble, Christian man like him… and single, I might add! You better say your prayers tonight, Yvette, because I think good fortune smiles down upon us."

"And you, especially," one of Yvette's brunette friends added. "Oh, I wish I was as pretty as you, Yvette. Don't you dare waste this opportunity. I'll be very cross if you do!"

Yvette's face went crimson. "But I-I just get so nervous. I won't know what to say."

"You'll think of it, love," her mother returned. "Instinct will take over when the time comes."

The other girls chimed in as they themselves were swooning. They eulogized and extolled the man in his absence for what seemed like minutes. Pocahontas did not like what she was hearing.

"He's so handsome! Absolutely gorgeous!"

"I'd say he's to die for."

"He's also rich _and_ humble. Do you have any idea how rare a combination that is?"

"And so brave! He nearly got shot by that wretched governor to save us from starvation!"

Pocahontas froze solid, completely forgetting her jealousy for the moment. She boldly pushed her way into the crowd of young women and addressed the one who spoke last. It was a black-haired girl who looked to be no more than fourteen years old. All the girls stopped talking and turned to look at her. "Excuse me, what did you just say about John Rolfe almost getting shot?"

"It's true!" Yvette replied. "Miss Pocahontas, I saw it myself! John Rolfe called a town meeting to depose the governor. Well the governor didn't like that one bit so he showed up with a pistol and shot at Lord Rolfe! But he missed and hit the wine barrels that Lord Rolfe was standing on instead. It was terrifying! Any of us could have been hit by a bullet."

"Thank the Lord no one was hurt!" the black-haired girl cried.

As the girls launched themselves into a discussion of how brave and noble Lord Rolfe was, Pocahontas drew her brows together in anger. All she could think about was how she wanted to smack him for conveniently failing to mention all this to her. Suddenly all the girls went silent and Pocahontas intuitively knew it was because Rolfe had returned. She rounded on him. "John, these girls tell me that you almost got shot by the governor. Is this true?" she interrogated.

Carrying two beverages, Rolfe had a look of startlement on his face in response to the tone of anger in Pocahontas's voice. "I-I…" Realizing he was going to be scolded, he bowed his head.

"This allegedly happened days ago and it seems you forgot to mention it," Pocahontas added.

Rolfe nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry, Pocahontas. I didn't want to scare you. If you must know, I nearly got shot twice through all of this. I was shot at when I first approached Jamestown because the guards on the walls mistook me for a warrior from your village. He only missed me by two feet," he hesitantly admitted, preparing himself for a further tongue lashing.

But Pocahontas only frowned. "Where is the jail that the former governor is being held in? I intend to have a word with him right away," she decreed. "This was all his fault!"

John Rolfe shrugged. "Not much a point in that, I'm afraid. The man's already been deposed and disgraced. Plus he is facing the prospect of punishment for his crime in London," he returned.

"If you do get a word in with him, please spit on him for me!" the black-haired girl asserted.

"Temperance, don't say such awful things!" Mrs. Spurling scolded. "It is terribly ill-mannered. A well-bred young lady is above such things as spitting on people, even if they richly deserve it!"

Temperance flushed. "Sorry, ma'am."

John Rolfe handed Pocahontas her glass of water. "There you go, my dear. Don't think anymore on the matter. We've stopped the conflict and made peace. All that's left to do is celebrate and live our lives. Why dwell on such unpleasant topics as corrupt former governors?" He held up his wine glass and clinked it against her water glass. "Cheers!" he announced, taking a sip.

Pocahontas shrugged. "Cheers, I guess…" she replied, still sounding a bit peeved. She doubted she would be satisfied until she got a chance to chew Thomas West out face-to face. The Powhatan woman took a long swig from her glass of water, rapidly relieving her thirst.

"That's the spirit, Lord Rolfe!" Mrs. Spurling lauded. "That nasty old governor won't be bothering us anymore. We could've starved to death under his ghastly leadership!"

Temperance blinked. "Who is to be in charge now that Baron West is out of office?"

John Rolfe had a thoughtful look on his face. "Myself and the other officials will have to select a temporary governor until a new one can be appointed by King James. Don't you worry, we'll pick someone who is going to be responsible and supervise him closely to make sure he is."

Pocahontas, John Rolfe, and the women stood around chatting for a while until the former two had finished their drinks. Suddenly Pocahontas felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Samuel Quincy. "Pocahontas, my dear, how are you enjoying the evening?" he inquired.

"Oh, it's been wonderful!" Pocahontas replied, turning to greet him.

"Glad to hear. Say, I've tired my wife out and she's gone to take a break. I was wondering if you'd like to join me on the dance floor for a bit. Emma won't mind," he proposed.

"I'd love to," Pocahontas returned.

She took his hand when he offered it and they walked off together. Meanwhile John Rolfe had finished his wine. He turned his attention to Yvette whose face became an instant inferno. "Shall we, Miss Spurling? The feast will be served soon so best catch a dance while we can."

He offered an arm for her to take and she took it shyly. All her friends looked excited for her and jealous at the same time as she walked off as John Rolfe's escort. On the dance floor, the beat was a fast one. Yvette was unsteady at first but with John Rolfe's lead, she soon fell into rhythm. Pocahontas skipped by them with Samuel Quincy, both shouting and laughing up a storm. John Rolfe was smiling. Before Yvette knew it, she was having more fun than she had ever had before in her life. And it ended all too soon when the dinner bell rang.

Everyone headed straight toward the dining room. Pulling back from Yvette, John Rolfe clapped his hands loudly to get all the partygoers' attentions. "Ahem, ahem! Ladies and gentlemen, I beg you to recall that we're to say Grace out here first _before_ we go in. That way when the feast is offered, we can get right down to eating. Now please, bow your heads and pray with me."

Everyone did as John Rolfe instructed and he lead them all in a quick prayer. "Dear God, we would like to thank and honor You for providing this exquisite winter feast. In a year that could easily have been characterized by famine and misery, You've come through for us like a shining star. A beacon of hope has been granted to us by You this fine Christmas Day and I'm sure we can all agree that it's not to be taken for granted. Please continue to bestow Your blessings upon us as we will do our best to follow the examples of Your Son, Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."

"Amen," echoed the settlers.

The doors to the dining room swung open and Rolfe beckoned everyone inside. The feast was much appreciated. There were roast turkeys with gravy, mince pies and potato mash, and dozens of other dishes to warm the partygoers' bellies. Though everyone had to limit their eating, no one was hungry by the time it was over. Not a scrap of food remained yet the settlers were satisfied. Next it was time for Rolfe to bestow the Christmas tree, candles upon each glowing bow, with a beautiful silver angel right on the top branch. The Yule log was added to the fireplace and then John Rolfe lead a large group in a game of charades as others stood or sat around conversing.

The children loved the charades. Other games were played too until the time grew late. John Rolfe brought the whole town together for some Christmas prayers and then sent the children to open their stockings in the drawing room. The town hall could not have been noisier as little ones ran around screaming and playing with their new toys. The youngest children, generally under age six, were sent home to play and then go to bed. The older children, adolescents, and adults stayed to listen to the story of the nativity scene. It was the story of Jesus Christ's birth as only John Rolfe could tell it. Though yawning from the long night, everyone was entranced by his tale as snow fell through the large window behind the illuminated Christmas tree. After the story was over, the festivities were concluded and everyone went home for a long winter's nap.


End file.
